


you can't blame gravity (for falling in love)

by bluevelvetvideo



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Don't worry, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Professor Jughead, Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Smut, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Southside Serpent Jughead Jones, professor/student, student betty, they're legal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23888554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluevelvetvideo/pseuds/bluevelvetvideo
Summary: A few hours later, they were sitting for dinner when Joaquin started making idle small talk.“So, Betty. I didn’t know you were a Serpent. I definitely would remember seeing you around.”“Oh, I’m not. What would make you say that I am?”“With that giant snake on your thigh, I just figured that must be the case," Joaquin said, taking a bite of his pizza.“Oh. Right. Nope. Not a Serpent. I woke up on my eighteenth birthday with this giant green monstrosity and I’ve been trying to figure it out ever since.”ORJughead Jones has been staring at his soulmark for twelve years, trying to figure out what it meant and who it belonged to.Betty Cooper knew what her soulmark meant, but it didn't make any sense to her.a professor/student fic with a soulmate twist.
Relationships: Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Cheryl Blossom/Toni Topaz, Joaquin DeSantos/Kevin Keller
Comments: 435
Kudos: 530
Collections: 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yes, hi, hello! i am here to bring you this little plot bunny that i've been working on for a good eight months now. well, it is finally ready to see the light of day.
> 
> huge **huge** thank you goes out to my main bitch, bina (@mieteve_minijoma) for being my sounding board, cheerleader, and friend. this would not be what it is without you, and i am forever grateful.
> 
> another big ol' shoutout to my girl, lyss (bettscoppr/breathewords) for being the best beta this side of the east river. you make my work worlds better and i am so lucky to have you in my corner. <3

Another semester, another sixteen weeks of whiney college freshman throwing excuse after excuse at their professors to try to talk their way out of low grades. He swears if he hears, “I never learned that in high school” one more time, he’s going to lose it. Why Jughead Jones took a job teaching English at Greendale University, he’d never know. Every so often, he’d have one student who wasn’t a complete waste of time, but mostly it was entitled kids who were only attending class because it was a requirement for their bullshit Social Media Management degree.

What was the Serpent King doing teaching a few towns over, anyway? Mostly, he was bored. He was tired of wrangling wayward teens, trying his best to show them the right path in life, only to have them disobey him to run drugs and guns behind his back. Jughead was getting really sick of being the King to a motorcycle club that wouldn’t leave his father’s rule. He’d established the Whyte Wyrm as more than just a Serpent den early in his reign — after the passing of Hogeye who had, for some reason, left him the bar in his will — and it was doing well enough that it didn’t need his attention around the clock.

So, he took the job at Greendale, after earning his Bachelor’s and Master's degrees in a record four years. 

The night before classes started, Jughead Jones looked at himself in the mirror, staring at his soulmate marking. He had been trying to figure the thing out since the day he got it twelve years ago, but to no avail. Right over his heart sat a frilly, pink, strawberry milkshake complete with whipped cream and three cherries, sitting atop a white doily. He’d only ever let three people see the marking: his father, his sister and his second in command and best friend, Joaquin DeSantos.

The marking did not match the rest of the dark scrawls of ink he’d gotten in his thirty years of life, and he hated it. But more than hating it, he was  _ confused _ by it. He had never met anyone that could possibly suit this kind of perfect pink confection — everyone he knew was morally ambiguous and borderline sinister.

He met Joaquin at Pop’s Chock’lit Shoppe for their usual weekly debriefing. It was fairly busy, but they took their usual back booth and ordered their usual meals. Before their food arrived, the diner was nearing capacity and the booth next to theirs, that usually no one dared sit in, was occupied by a bubbly blonde and her perfectly put-together friend.

“Can I get a vanilla milkshake?” the blonde asked politely to the waitress, but the rest of her order was cut off by another waitress placing their plates in front of them.

\--

Betty Cooper watched them carefully from the corner of her eye. They were just as terrifying as people said they were - all leather-clad and rough around the edges. She wondered for a moment whether the snake marking on her upper thigh was for either one of them, but she brushed it from her thoughts. She’d never had a reason to talk to them. She didn’t even know their names, only that they were the most feared people in the entirety of Riverdale. 

Her mother had told her to stay away from the Southside, that nothing good ever came out of it. She’d never personally known anyone from the Southside and she was sure it was going to stay that way.

Riverdale was too small for her liking, but after her family was killed in an accident, she couldn’t tear herself away. The youngest daughter of the well-to-do Cooper family was now alone in that big house on Elm Street. After getting all of her affairs in order, talking with the lawyers and dealing with the banks, her father’s fortune (by extension, a Blossom fortune) was left in her name, which she immediately put into an account that she couldn’t access until she was 25. 

A few months later, Kevin and Veronica had moved in with her, both having had enough of living under their parent’s roofs and ready to finally begin their lives as college students. They’d all put off going to college, deciding to travel the world first — three best friends running from reality on a European adventure until they couldn’t anymore. 

Before she knew it, her first day of college was upon her, and she was met with one cancelled class that the professor didn’t bother to email the students about and her journalism class. She was actually looking forward to that one. English had always been one of her best subjects, and she was excited for the opportunity to write again.

She sat up front, in the center of the classroom, and took out her spiral bound notebook and black fine-point pen. With her hands clasped on top of her desk and her back straight, she waited for the professor to come in. Her classmates straggled in, all taking seats to fill up the back row before someone eventually sat next to her. 

A few minutes before class was set to begin, a tall, dark-haired man sauntered into the room, a black sport coat with green elbow patches thrown over his messenger bag.

“Good morning. I assume we’re all here for Journalism 101. If not, there’s the door,” the professor said, pointing behind him. 

One student got up to leave, but the professor didn’t spare a glance. He sat at the table directly in front of Betty and looked at her skeptically, like maybe he knew her, but she didn’t let it phase her. She was always told that she had one of those faces.

He took out a stack of papers and  flopped them on the desk of the student next to her. The sudden slap of paper against the plastic of the desk startled Betty, but she kept her composure. She watched as the professor paced the front of the room, waiting for the students to finish passing around the packets . “I am Professor Jones. My office hours and contact information are listed at the top of your syllabus.”

He went through the basics of his self-introduction and what was expected out of the course. “I want you to think about what it really is you want to be writing. It takes more than good writing skills to be a good journalist. And if you’re taking this class as an easy elective, I’d drop it now.” 

He ran his fingers through his slicked-back hair before pulling another stack of sheets from his bag. 

“We meet three days a week, so I’m sure we are going to get to know each other fairly well. You respect my time and I’ll respect yours. That being said, I have two spots open for an advanced descriptive writing seminar that begins mid-semester. It is one night a week for the second half of the semester. This flyer details what I’m looking for, so if you’re interested, stop by and grab one,” he said, holding up the sheet. “I’ll see you all Friday.”

The class filtered out, but Betty stayed behind. 

“Is there something I can help you with, Miss…”

“Elizabeth Cooper, but everyone calls me Betty,” she said, standing up and slinging her blue denim backpack over her shoulder. “I’m interested in the seminar.”

Jughead holds out the flyer but stares at her silently, like she’s done something wrong. She feels unnerved by the intensity of his glare, but refuses to let it show.

She shoots him a perky smile. “See you Friday, Professor Jones.”

“Applications with completed supplements are due in my office by October first.”

\--

Betty filled out her seminar application far earlier than she needed to. But in addition to the regular application form required by the school, Professor Jones had also asked for a 500-word piece from each applicant describing their favorite thing. The only catch was that applicants were not allowed to actually name the thing. If Professor Jones could not guess what an applicant was describing, the spot was theirs. 

_ Simple enough _ , Betty thought, until she actually tried to write the short essay. She’d wracked her brain trying to think of what her most favorite thing on the Earth was. Her parents,  _ no _ . Something academic? No, she didn’t want to be known as a kiss-ass already; she was sure that label would come in time.

Finally, in a booth at Pop’s, an idea presented itself to her atop a crisp paper doily. What she’d describe in her application — her favorite thing in the world, however simple — was a strawberry milkshake with whipped cream and three cherries.

Betty planned to finish her application a few weeks later after returning home from class. But when she walked through the door, it seemed her roommates had something else in mind.

“Betty, you work too hard!” Kevin whined. “You never hang out with us anymore.”

“You deserve a little R&R, B,” Veronica chimed in. “Besides, Kevin’s new boyfriend is here. What kind of host would you be if you scurried off to do your homework?”

Betty groaned. “Fine,” she acquiesced. “But I’m not promising I’ll like him.”

Betty followed Veronica and Kevin into the living room, where a leather-clad man lounged on the couch, legs crossed at the knees. He looked vaguely familiar, like she’d crossed his path before.

“Betty, Joaquin. Joaquin, this is my housemate and best friend, Betty.”

“It’s very nice to meet you,”  Betty said, her voice half an octave higher than usual. 

Joaquin looked around the living room, his head nodding slowly . “Nice place.”

Betty hadn’t redecorated too much after her family died. She did rearrange the furniture and add her own throw pillows and art on the walls, but the space was still very Cooper-esque.

“How did you two meet?” Betty asked, taking in his full-leather form. 

“Preppy is in my algebra class at Riverdale Community,” Joaquin said. “Do you go there, too?”

“Greendale U,” she said, slowly gravitating toward the stairs. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go upstairs and change. It’s been a long day.”

She scampered upstairs, leaving her backpack on her vanity chair, and changed into an old pair of cheer shorts and a tank top. They revealed a lot of her skin — her soulmark was on full display — but she didn’t think anything of it. She’s walked around her own home in less clothing before, and based on who he was dating, she was sure she didn’t have to worry about Joaquin having wandering eyes.

She traipsed back down the stairs to rejoin her roommates in the living room, only to find them gone.  With her head on a swivel, she looked for her friends around the first floor of the house, but she didn’t spot them anywhere. Betty shrugged her shoulders, confused.  She opened the fridge and grabbed a beer, cracking it up and hoisting herself up onto the kitchen counter next to the sink. She took a swig from the amber bottle and scrolled through her emails until the sound of glass shattering pulled her focus.

When she looked up, Joaquin was standing in front of her, coughing like he took a huge swig of beer that went down the wrong pipe, his bottle broken at his feet. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll clean it up. Please don’t jump down here with bare feet.”

“Are you okay? What happened?”

“Nothing. I’m fine. Must have swallowed wrong,” he said, but she didn’t believe him.

A few hours later, they were sitting for dinner when Joaquin started making idol small talk.

“So, Betty. I didn’t know you were a Serpent. I definitely would remember seeing you around.”

“Oh, I’m not. What would make you say that I am?”

“With that giant snake on your thigh, I just figured that must be the case," Joaquin said, taking a bite of his pizza.

“Oh. Right. Nope. Not a Serpent. I woke up on my eighteenth birthday with this giant green monstrosity and I’ve been trying to figure it out ever since.”

She saw the ghost of a smirk on his lips, but decided it would be better not to ask.

\--

Joaquin’s presence around the house became a normal occurrence after a while. He was there more than he wasn’t, but Betty didn’t mind. He was a wonderful house guest: tidy, quiet and helpful. The four of them had fallen into a nice routine by mid-September, when Betty blurted out an idea over their game of Uno.

“I think I’m going to get a job,” she said.

“Why would you do that?” Kevin asked. “If I didn’t have to work, I definitely wouldn’t.”

“I’m bored,” she admitted. “And I think I can use it as part of an assignment for class. The professor told us he wants us to come up with an undercover story concept.”

“Concept means an idea, not actually go out and do it,” Veronica piped up.

“Have you met me?” Betty asked, and everyone chuckled. “Besides, aren’t you two always telling me I have to get out of the house?”

“Well, yeah. But like, on a date, not for work.” Kevin laughed, playing a green draw-two card to Veronica.

  
Veronica glared at Kevin and did as the card prompted. And just as quickly as the conversation started, it was over. Betty made a mental note to talk to Cheryl about a bartending job at her club in Centerville, The Twisted Cherry. If she really wanted to go undercover, she’d need a place where no one knew her as  _ Little Betty Cooper _ . 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fuck, guys. The response to this has been so overwhelming! I am over the moon that you guys are enjoying this! I can't wait to share the rest of it with you and to read your thoughts on it. 
> 
> As always, huge shout out to my girl, Lyss for being the best beta a girl could ask for. This would be nothing without her and I am eternally grateful for her help and support. Go check her out on tumblr/AO3 (bettscoopr/breathewords)
> 
> Without further adieu, welcome to chapter two! Happy reading!!

_ It is the hottest day of the summer, the feeling of the cool river water lapping against my toes, the water rushing over the vibrant violet polish. It is my best friend playfully nudging me in the shoulder, challenging me to another race even though he always loses. It is sticky, humid nights at the drive-in as the summer fades into fall. It is the taste of freedom from the four walls of my house when my parents fight, the sight of cracked vinyl and neon lights offering my only solace. It is the wind in my hair as I swing so high on the swingset at Riverdale Elementary that I almost feel like I’m flying. It is the sudden bursts of light that make sitting through another one of my sister’s recitals worth it. It is tradition in its purest sense. It is the swirling pigments of a sunset after a long and tiring day of avoidance. It is happiness and nostalgia, pain and remembrance all rolled into one. It is love and hate and everything in between, but it is mine and it always will be. _

Betty wrinkled her nose as the words flowed from her. She was confident he’d never be able to guess what her favorite thing was, confident than she’d won the coveted spot in her professor’s seminar reserved for upper-classmen. 

She saved her document, determined to let it sit before going back to it and editing with fresh eyes a few days later. She picked up her phone, looking over her dwindling to-do list and crossed off another item. Next on her list was to call Cheryl. She scrolled through her contacts, hesitated for a second, then pressed on her cousin’s photo.

“Hello, Cousin dear,” Cheryl answered, cheerful as always.

“Hey, Cheryl. I had a favor to ask, but you can totally say no,” Betty began, babbling before she even got to her request.

“Out with it, Betty,” Cheryl snipped.

“Are you still looking for a bartender?” she blurted out.

“As a matter of fact, I am. The one I hired wasn’t worth his weight in salt. That’s what I get for hiring a man,” she digressed. “Job is yours if you can be here tomorrow night. Come at four and we’ll get you a uniform and go over the basics before opening at seven.”

“Thank you,” Betty chirped, excited for something new in her life outside of her usual home and school routine.

~~

Betty walked into The Twisted Cherry five minutes early. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but a punk-rock goth club was definitely not it. Her blonde hair stood out like a beacon in the dim lighting and black decor.

“This simply won’t do,” Cheryl called from across the bar, arms crossed against her chest. “We need to get you into uniform, ASAP.”

Betty looked down at her lilac camisole and blue jeggings.  _ Yeah. This doesn’t work _ , she silently agreed. 

Cheryl ushered her into a back dressing room where two other girls were sitting at brightly lit vanities, applying layer after layer of dark makeup and wigs. She eyed the empty seat and set her purse down. 

“First things first, you’re going to need a name. Betty definitely does  _ not  _ fit this aesthetic,” she turned around and pointed to the two girls. “This is Ginny and Maggie, named after their favorite drinks, Gin Fizz and Margarita.”

Betty nodded her head slowly; she’s never gone by any other name than her own, and she was sure that she’d get confused far too easily if it was something that wasn’t at least close to Betty. She thought back to her childhood — her father always drank blackberry brandy.

“Does Brandy work?” Betty asked sheepishly.

“Perf,” Cheryl said, setting a large kit of makeup in front of her cousin. “Dark eyes. Sultry lip. There’s a section here for fake piercings if you’re feeling frisky. Do whatever the opposite of Betty would do,” she said. “I’ll leave you to it while I draw up your paperwork.”

Cheryl left Betty to her devices. She combed through the box and found the colors she thought would match her tone the best and began to paint her face in ways she always wanted, but never dared to when Alice was alive. Thick lines of black rimmed her eyes with a gunmetal shadow and a red so dark it looked nearly black on her lips. 

_ Hello, Brandy _ , she thought. She definitely looked nothing like Betty.

She pushed the small bits of metal around the small compartment and fished out a nose ring. After wiping it down with an alcohol wipe, she attached it to her nose and smirked at herself. She definitely didn’t hate what she saw in the mirror, even if she didn’t recognize the face looking back at her.

Cheryl came back in the room, paperwork in hand, and smiled. “Great work, but the blonde has to go. We already have one blonde bartender. Here are your options,” Cheryl said pointing up to a shelf with mannequin heads sporting different colors and styles of hair. 

“What about the black bob?” she found herself asking. 

\--

“Have you given any thought to your assignments?” Professor Jones asked, his eyes traveling across the faces of the students in his class.

He saw a few emphatic nods, but mostly got nothing in return. 

“Write-ups are due in two weeks, guys. You’re killing me,” he sighed. “Clearly, you’ve all checked out for the day. Get out. I’ll see you Monday,” he said dismissively.

Betty was packing her things as her classmates exited around her.

“Miss Cooper, a word, please,” Jughead said.

“Yes, Sir?” she asked, looking up. 

She looked more tired than she usually did. She was generally the most chipper out of all of his students, the only one with any kind of aptitude for the written word. 

“I reviewed your application for the seminar.”

“And?” Betty asked. She didn’t seem to be in the mood for beating around the bush.

“Congratulations. In my few years of teaching this seminar, your supplement was the best I’ve ever received. Are you sure journalism is what you want to do?”

“Thank you. And no, I’m not sure journalism is what I want to do, but I do know that I want to write.”

“Well, you’re exceptional. Better than the majority of my advanced students.”

“Thank you, Sir,” she said, getting up.

Jughead wasn’t one to give compliments to his students, but this one was different. She wasn’t using writing as a means to an easy A or as a way to fill her time until she got bored and moved on to some other hobby. He could tell that it meant something to her on more than just an academic level. He watched as she slung her bag over her shoulder and headed toward the door.

“What was it?” he asked before she could walk out of the room.

“I’ll show you before class on Monday,” she shot over her shoulder. “During office hours.”

Jughead had wracked his brain, but he couldn’t quite figure out what she was describing. Her use of personification and figurative language was unmatched, even in some published novels he’d read. She certainly earned her spot in his seminar — not that he would complain about having extra time with her. 

He found her fascinating, captivating. Her ideas were fresh and her insights new, even if they did seem a little unorthodox. Sure, he noticed that she was beautiful, but he’d never act on his baser impulses. 

Classes that week had been killer, so instead of going home and grading papers as he should have, he made his way to a bar — one that wasn’t his, where he didn’t have to be the Serpent King or Professor Jones. One where he could just be Jughead. 

Toni had recommended The Twisted Cherry to him when it first opened, but he always bailed at the last minute when she invited him. This time, he didn’t. He left his Serpent jacket at home, not wanting to bring the stigma of his gang with him into Centerville. 

“Cheryl owns this place,” Toni said as they pulled into the parking lot.

“So you’ve said,” Jughead laughed. “I can’t believe you’re still together. Nothing against you, but she can be pretty terrible sometimes.”

Toni shrugged. “Whatever, man. She’s my soulmate,” she said tapping the stemmed cherries on her collarbone. “I think you’ll like what’s on the inside,” she teased. “Her bartenders are hot, but if you tell her I said that, I’ll slice that smirk right off your face.”

“Yes, ma’am. But you know I don’t care about that. I have my hands full enough with classes and the Serpents. I don’t need to be worried about maintaining a relationship, too.”

“Unless it’s with your soulmate,” Toni added. “You can’t deny your soulmate. Even if you try, you always end up in each other’s path.”

Jughead rolled his eyes. There was no fighting fate, he knew that much to be true. He was however, still very confused that he  _ still  _ hadn’t met his frilly milkshake lady yet. For all he knew, she hadn’t even been born yet. He shook his head, dispelling the strange thought, and got out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him.

When he walked into the bar with Toni, he was surprised by the scene that greeted him. Granted, he didn’t know Cheryl very well, but he did not expect something so dark from her flashy personality. The walls were crimson red, the furniture black and leather, windows draped in heavy black fabric, the lighting fixtures all ornate. 

Toni led them to a corner booth with a metal  _ reserved _ sign on the top. 

“Perks of fucking the owner?” Jughead asked, pushing the sign to the side. 

“Soul. Mate.”

They sat for a few minutes before a waitress came over to take their order. 

“Is Cherry here?” Toni asked.

“She’ll be back in a few hours,” the waitress said. “Something to drink?”

“What do you recommend?” Jughead asked. 

He was drawn to her hands — the way they held her pen firmly but delicately, tapping it gently against the black billfold in her hand. She wasn’t impatient or rude like some other waitresses he’d had in the past. She didn’t scowl at him because of who he was or who she thought he was. Her eyes did squint slightly, possibly in recognition, but he didn’t pay too much mind to it.

Sure, she was beautiful, with her pin-straight dark bob and dramatic makeup, but something in her eyes was calming and familiar. 

“I’m a Southside girl myself,” the waitress said. When he looked up from her hands, he noticed her name tag:  _ Brandy. _

“Sounds great. I’ll try that.”

“Don’t you wanna know what’s in it first?” Toni laughed.

Jughead honestly didn’t care. A beautiful woman suggested a drink named after where he grew up. How was he going to say no to that?

“Gin, lime juice, simple syrup and mint,” Brandy clarified. “If you’re not a gin drinker, I can recommend a Strawberry Manhattan. It’s my signature drink,” she winked. 

“Surprise me,” Jughead said without thinking. 

He was intrigued to say the least.

“Cherry Bourbon Smash,” Toni said.

Jughead watched Brandy write down their order .As she turned to walk away, his eyes traversed her body, landing smack on her thigh where a very large, very green, very menacing serpent peaked through her fishnets under her cut-off black denim shorts. 

He blinked rapidly, like if he did, it would disappear. But every time, it remained. He coughed relentlessly, trying to ground himself. 

“Please tell me you saw that,” he said once he caught his breath. “Her tattoo — soulmark, whatever you wanna call it.”

“Was it in color?” Toni asked.

“Yes, it was in color,” Jughead said, exasperated. “I know only soulmarks are in color, everything else is shades of black. But did you  _ see _ it?”

“No, what was it?”

Jughead lifted up his shirt sleeve, revealing his own black and white serpent tattoo, the tiny three-pointed crown on its head. He pointed dramatically at it.

“This. It is this, but bigger and in color. Look, she’s coming back,” he said pulling his sleeve down. “Left thigh. You can’t miss it.”

Brandy sauntered up to the table and Jughead watched as Toni’s eyes widened. She definitely saw it, too.

“Enjoy,” Brandy smiled and winked at Jughead. 

She’d made him a Strawberry Manhattan, garnished with three cherries. His eyes widened in disbelief. There was no way that his fluffy pink tattoo was intended to represent his dark, mysterious bartender. 

He convinced himself it was just a coincidence, that it was just how the drink was made and it wasn’t some kind of universal or cosmic sign. 

\--

Betty stood behind the bar at The Twisted Cherry and tucked a lock of black, synthetic hair behind her ear. 

“Hey Ginny, c’mere a second?” Betty asked. “That guy in the corner. You ever seen him before?”

“No. But he’s with Cherry’s girl. Why, do you know him?”

“I think that’s my journalism professor,” she laughed. “It sounded like him, but I can’t be sure because of the music.”

\--

Betty was excited to start the seminar with Professor Jones. It was going to be a wonderful opportunity to explore words in a way she hadn’t been able to in years. She knew she had a lot to learn from her professor, and she was going to take full advantage.

When Monday came around, a few hours before class started, Betty stopped at Pop’s and got two strawberry milkshakes with whipped cream and three cherries. She told Professor Jones she would show him what her paper detailed. 

She put them carefully into a nondescript white paper bag and made the journey to Greendale. She approached his office and knocked carefully three times.

“It’s open,” Jughead called. 

Betty pushed the door open, gripped the bag behind her back, hidden from his view.

“Ah, yes. Miss Cooper,” he said closing his gradebook and leaning back in his chair, arms behind his head. 

Betty sat down in the generic gray chair that was in every professor’s office, sneaking the bag to the floor with her backpack. 

“I wanted to thank you again for offering me the spot in your seminar. I’m very excited for the opportunity.”

“I have to say, I haven’t seen use of figurative language like that in quite a long time. I applaud your efforts. Don’t get me wrong, it was still a little rough, but with an editor, you have a bright future as a writer… if that’s the path you choose.”

Betty could feel the heat on her cheeks and was certain he’d seen it, too. After he stared for what was definitely too long to be appropriate, he cleared his throat.

“What was it that you were describing?” he asked.

“This,” she said, carefully opening the bag from Pop’s and procuring the shakes. She handed one to him, followed by a straw and he almost dropped it when he realized what it was. “Strawberry milkshake, whipped cream…”

“Three cherries,” he said in unison with her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Leave me your thoughts, comments, predictions, or anything in the comments. Or come tumble with on @smugheadjonesthethird.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are really giving me the warm and fuzzies with your comments and asks on tumblr. You have no idea what that means to me. My undying gratitude to you all.
> 
> As always, the biggest shoutout to Lyss the wonder beta who makes me a better writer and a better human. Love you, girl.
> 
> Let's just say things are starting to get interesting. <3

_ But it can’t be _ . Jughead thought back to the bartender from Friday night. She had the soulmark, the one that matched his Serpent tattoo. The bright green had seared itself into his memory, but he can hardly consider this a coincidence. Betty was bright and sunshine-y, certainly the type to warrant the pink perfection tattooed on his chest. He shook the thought from his head. 

_ There is no way. She can’t be old enough to have a soulmark. It doesn’t fit,  _ he tried to convince himself.

He heard her shuffling around in front of him, crumpling the bag she pulled the frosty treat from. He opened the straw and watched it penetrate the thick, pink drink, then took a sip. He was more of a vanilla shake kind of guy, but there was something wonderful about the delicate balance of sweet and tangy.

_ Maybe _ . He shook his head while he took another sip.

“I’m not sure I can taste all of the things you can, Miss Cooper,” he finally said. “But thank you for bringing me one. It certainly is delicious.”

He plucked one of the cherries from the top and squashed it between his teeth, hearing the pop of the skin and feeling the juice trickle down the back of his throat. 

“Thank you again for the spot in your seminar. I’m looking forward to it,” she said, standing from her seat and heading toward the door. “See you in class.”

And as soon as she was there, she was gone. He leaned back in his seat, staring at the plastic cup on his desk. 

_ What the fuck _ .

\--

Jughead visited The Twisted Cherry more times than he was willing to admit over the course of the next month, just to get a glimpse of the girl bearing his soulmark. For a brief moment in time, he wondered if the crown on her Serpent was intended for his father instead, seeing as he  _ was _ the Serpent King. But his father’s tattoo never wore a crown - then he remembered that his father had found his soulmate some time after his mom skipped town when he was young.  _ It was worth a shot _ . He would find ways to strike up innocent conversation, but never had the wherewithal to actually ask her about the fanged beast on her thigh. 

He’d gotten to know Betty from their time in class and the seminar. Not a lot of information, but snippets about who she was and what made her tick. Her writing in the seminar was drastically different from what she turned in for her journalism assignments; in his experience, people couldn’t write both styles well. She was the exception.

It took some time, but he finally took Joaquin with him to the bar to see his soulmate. He’d been venting to his best friend nonstop about his predicament. He knew that Brandy was his soulmate — he could see it, plain as day, there on her creamy white thigh. But he was drawn to Betty, despite how unethical the impulse may be. He never acted on it, never even gave an inkling that he was interested in that way.

“What makes you so sure this girl is your soulmate, Jones?” Joaquin asked.

“You’ll know as soon as you see her. There’s no way she can’t be,” he said confidently as they walked into the bar.

It was the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, so the bar was emptier than usual, but as soon as the door closed behind them, his eyes searched for Brandy. He spotted her on the other side of the bar, serving drinks to a table of older men.

“There she is,” Jughead pointed. “Black bob, fishnets.”

He watched as Joaquin surveyed his soulmate, jealousy roiling in his chest as he stared a little too long at her legs. He choked it down and waited expectantly for some kind of reaction.

“Yeah, that’s her alright,” he said, walking down toward her and taking a seat at the end of the bar.

Jughead joined him, slumping into his seat. 

“Excuse me, Miss,” Joaquin said, crooking his finger and beckoning the waitress to them. “Brandy, is it?”

Jughead watched the interaction as his best friend talked to his soulmate and he couldn’t help but notice it seemed familiar - like they were friends somehow. Joaquin’s eyes were shifting back and forth between him and Brandy and it was starting to be unsettling.

When he finally heard him order their drinks, he sat forward, his elbows leaning on the bar. “What was that about?”

“What was what about?” he asked nonchalantly.

“Whatever it was, I don’t like it.”

“She’s smart. Pretty. Definitely your girl, Jug,” he said, trying to bite back laughter.

\--

Betty got home from work and she was exhausted. For a Wednesday night, it was slammed, which surprised her before she remembered that the day before Thanksgiving was the biggest drinking night of the year. At least her tips were worth it. 

Her eyes were still rimmed in black, but her hair was down, flowing across her shoulders when she threw her backpack onto the couch in the living room. She flopped down next to her bag, not realizing that there was someone else in the room.

“How was work tonight, Betty?” Joaquin asked.

She startled and sat up quickly, knocking her bag onto the floor.

“Jesus, man. What’re you doing here?”

“Waiting for Kevin to get home with shakes from Pop’s.”

“It’s like four in the morning,” she said.

“Yeah, well. I like a sweet treat after—”

“Alright, I get it. Gross,” she flailed.

“So, have you met anyone interesting at the bar lately?”

“Other than you being there, no. That guy you were with comes in a lot, though. He looks really familiar to me, but I can’t quite place him.”

She’d given up the thought on the mystery guy being her Professor weeks before. This guy wasn’t quite as pretentious. Somehow softer around the edges than her know-it-all professor. 

“That’s my best friend, Jughead,” he said. “We’ve been friends since we were kids.”

“That’s great for you, I guess,” Betty said, trying to figure out where he was going with his.

“I was thinking, what if we had a game night on Friday. Something small. You, Kevin, and Veronica, obviously. Me, Archie and my friend Jughead. I think you two would really hit it off.”

“I mean, game night sounds fun. But why do I feel like this is a trap?”

\--

“What makes you think I’d actually be interested in a game night?” Jughead asked Joaquin with a chuckle.

“C’mon, it’s not like you’re doing anything for Thanksgiving anyway. I can promise you delicious treats. My boyfriend’s roommate makes the most amazing chocolate chip cookies, and there are bound to be tons of leftovers. I know it’s your favorite,” he pleaded.

“You had me at delicious treats,” Jughead acquiesced.

There was a look on his best friend’s face that he couldn’t quite place, but he knew it was better not to ask questions. He was sure it wouldn’t kill him to socialize with new people. He was also sure that this would take his mind off of this Betty or Brandy dilemma. Not that it was a dilemma per se, he knew he’d never date a student, but there was just something about her he couldn’t resist. But then there was Brandy, the beautiful, mysterious bartender with his soulmark.

_ No _ , he thought to himself,  _ I’m not getting into this again. _

Thanksgiving came and went and was as lonely as he expected it to be. FP was off with the woman he refused to call his new mother doing God knows what. He sat in the trailer alone with a TV dinner and documentaries on Netflix. Before he drifted off to sleep, he was actually excited to do something other than sit alone.

He rode his bike to the address Joaquin gave him, parked in front and took off his helmet. He surveyed the house. It was nice. A little too nice for someone Joaquin was dating, but he pushed that thought aside. Who was he to judge?

He walked up the steps slowly, taking in the fall decorations and carefully kept yard. He certainly wasn’t on the Southside anymore. He knocked on the red door three times and waited as he heard laughter and footsteps behind it.

He rocked from heel to toe waiting for someone to answer.

The door flung open and his eyebrows flew to his forehead when his eyes landed on the face of the girl in front of him.

\--

“Professor Jones? What’re you doing here?” Betty asked him curiously, becoming suddenly very self-conscious of her casual attire. 

“I think I might have the wrong house. I’m looking for my friend Joaquin. He invited me to his boyfriend’s place for some kind of game night.”

“You’re Jughead?!” Betty asked, looking over her shoulder for Joaquin, who was chuckling just beside her.

He raised his hand. “Guilty.”

“Please, come in. You came all this way. It would be rude of me to turn you away.” Betty smiled, despite her heart rattling against her chest ferociously. She looked over her shoulder to her roommate’s boyfriend and glared so hard she was sure she’d set him on fire. 

She watched as her professor casually sauntered to his friend and clapped him on the back. He whispered something to him, but she didn’t catch what it was. She slowly closed the door, shaking her head to herself, trying to figure out a way to figure out just how small the world really was.

“So you two know each other?” Joaquin asked, trying to bite back a laugh.

“You could say that,” Betty started.

“Betty is one of my students,” Jughead finished. “The one I told you about,” Jughead said in a hushed tone.

“Wait,” he laughed. “This is…  _ oh.” _

Joaquin was in full-blown hysterics by the time Kevin and Veronica came downstairs.

“What’s so funny?” Kevin asked as he saddled up to his boyfriend.

“Oh, nothing,” he said.

Betty rolled her eyes. She was missing a piece of this puzzle and she didn’t like it all too much.

“And how was it you knew each other again?” Betty asked.

“We grew up together. We’ve been friends since we were six,” Jughead said plainly.

Betty just nodded slowly and left for the kitchen to tend to the cookies she’d just pulled from the oven.  _ What the actual hell is going on here. _

Betty knew a few things for certain. She knew how old Joaquin was, so by that, it meant that Professor Jones — Jughead — was also in that range. She knew that Joaquin was a Serpent, from which she could extrapolate that Jughead was too if they were still so close.

What she didn’t know was why Joaquin thought they’d get on well if the latter was true. Betty was a good girl at heart, never really rebelled too much, unless you count those times she wore lipstick in a shade  _ slightly _ darker than her usual Pink Perfection growing up. 

But when she stopped to think about it, she had gotten to know a decent amount about her professor during class and through the weekly seminar. He wasn’t a bad person, didn’t even seem all that tough.

She arranged the cookies on a plate carefully, making sure it was perfectly presentable before she went back into the living room, plate in hand, to join her housemates and guests. She placed the platter on the table and sank into the only seat left in her living room — the couch next to Jughead.

She sat down, making sure to keep her limbs to herself instead of spreading out like she usually would. She felt self-conscious in her leggings and camisole, her sweater falling off of her shoulder in a way she’d never allow outside the house. She pulled the sweater up to cover her shoulder awkwardly as she stared at her bare feet on the floor.

Joaquin and Kevin were practically eating each other’s faces when there was another knock at the door.

“It’s Archie,” Veronica said as she popped up to let him in.

Betty fidgeted in her spot, trying her hardest to disappear into the couch when Jughead leaned over.

“I can leave if this is making you uncomfortable,” he said, his breath fanning her face.

Her cheeks flamed red as she swallowed hard. It wasn’t that she was uncomfortable. She certainly was not, but out of context, she could see herself flirting with a guy like Jughead. Technically, she already had, at the bar. But that wasn’t her, it was _ Brandy _ . He seemed to be interested in her, but Brandy was carefully crafted to be nothing like Betty. Well not  _ nothing _ like her, but certainly very different.

“No, it’s fine,” she said. “If  _ you’re _ uncomfortable, you’re free to leave. I won’t be offended.”

He smirked at her and her heart melted a little. It wasn’t the first time she’d had one-on-one time with the man next to her, but it was the first time it felt okay to flirt a little, the first time it felt even remotely intimate.

“I was promised delicious treats,” he said, leaning forward and snagging a cookie from the plate.

Betty’s already pink cheeks darkened and she could feel the heat in rush to her ears. She heard the footsteps stop at the doorway and looked up at Archie and Veronica.

“Archiekins, you know almost everyone. This is Jughead, Joaquin’s friend,” she said introducing the men.

Betty watched as Archie’s face contorted from friendly to frightened. 

“But isn’t he the…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how do we feel , y'all? I know you're probably mad because of a cliffhanger, but we have to build the suspense, no? Let me know what you think! I can't wait to hear it.
> 
> As always, feel free to come tumble with me @smugheadjonesthethird or find me on the Bughead Family Discord!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Previously on YCBG(FFIL):  
> “Archiekins, you know almost everyone. This is Jughead, Joaquin’s friend,” she said introducing the men.  
> Betty watched as Archie’s face contorted from friendly to frightened.   
> “But isn’t he the…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You. Guys. Seriously, I am still so over the moon with how much y'all are enjoying this. It makes me warm and fuzzy inside to read all of the comments and to read tag comments and reblogs. It has been the highlight of my week every week. So, thank you all from the bottom of my fandom heart for all of the amazing feedback. If I could hug you all, I would, but y'know - social distancing.

“Yes,” Jughead interrupted. “But not right now I’m not."

Betty saw Archie’s face relax but his confusion deepen. Just who the hell was this guy? 

Betty kept her guard up to the best of her ability, but Jughead’s charm was wearing her down. He was far more intelligent than she’d realized; his depth of knowledge went further than just literature. What was supposed to be the average game night turned into a few rounds of Texas Hold’em, made longer by long lengths of laughter and storytelling in between. 

“Okay, okay,” Joaquin said between fits of laughter. “We came here for game night. Why don’t we make it interesting?”

Veronica leaned forward, her chin resting delicately on her curled fist, a curious eyebrow raised. “Interesting how?”

“We scrap story time and have some fun.”

“I think we were already having fun,” Betty said as she shuffled the cards nervously.

Joaquin gave Kevin a quick wink before he smiled maniacally.

“Strip. Poker,” he said, emphasizing the first word. “We bet articles of clothing instead of chips.”

Betty looked around the room as everyone muttered how fun it could be. 

_ I really don’t have any interest in seeing my best friend’s boyfriend naked, _ she thought.  _ But Jughead, on the other hand… _ She let the thought linger for a second longer before sitting up straight and gathering up glasses and dishes from the table in front of them to give herself something to do.

“I don’t know,” Betty said as she came back with a refreshed glass of wine. “Seems a little… inappropriate,” she said, eyeing Jughead.

“Y’know,” Jughead protested. “Young Miss Cooper is right, seems a bit much considering how we know one another.”

“It’s not like it’s  _ illegal _ ,” Kevin said. “We’re all over the age of 21. It’s not like there are minors present.”

Betty could feel her face warm at the thought of the possibility that she may not have a way out of this.

She settled herself back into the oversized chair she’d been in all night, her legs tucked securely underneath her. She looked back to Jughead for some kind of assistance.

Jughead tapped his chest carefully, glaring at Joaquin. “I’m not sure this is the best idea.”

“Oh, I think it’s a terrific idea,” Veronica piped in. “Any chance for me to see a little more of this,” she said, gesturing around Archie’s abs wildly, “is a great time.”

Betty rolled her eyes. She was sure she’d be hearing them having sex through their very thin walls for the upteeth time that semester.

“Don’t be such a square, Betty. Think how much this would have pissed off Alice. You used to live for quiet rebellions like this,” Kevin said, leaning on his boyfriend.

She slumped her shoulders in defeat. “Fine.”

Betty picked up the cards again and shuffled until the buzz of excitement around them settled down slightly. She dealt the cards clockwise, ending with herself before burning a card and flipping over the first three.

“We start with you, Jug,” Joaquin said. 

\--

He looked down at his cards. Pocket aces. It wasn’t a bad hand; starting with a pair already gave him a statistical advantage. The first three cards laid out were a king of diamonds, a seven of clubs, and a six of hearts. There’s no way he could go for the straight shot, or the flush. He’d have to hope another pair came out on the board.

“I bet one sock.”

“I see your sock and raise you the other sock,” Archie said with a slight smirk.

“I see both of your socks,” Veronica paused. “And raise you a sweater.”

Jughead looked at her, wondering what she could possibly have already. It was possible she was waiting for her flush, but he thought it was unlikely.

Kevin, Joaquin and Betty all folded their hands politely before it came back around to Jughead. 

“Two socks and a sweater, or in your case, flannel to you, Jughead,” Veronica smirked. “Are you in or out.”

“I’m in,” he said after a few seconds of contemplation. If he was going to play this, he was going to do it just as he would any other poker game.

Betty turned the next card, revealing a two of spades.  _ Well, there goes her flush, _ Jughead thought. He checked down to Archie and Veronica and Betty dealt the last card. The king of clubs.

_ Thank God, _ he thought. No one raised again.

“Flip em,” Joaquin said after they’d all stared at each other for long enough.

Veronica revealed her missed flush, as he suspected. And Archie didn’t have anything. He wasn’t even sure what he was going for. But, by the way Archie excitedly took off his sweatshirt, Jughead guessed he just really didn’t either know how to play poker or wanted to be naked. Or maybe both.

Jughead revealed his two pair and thanked his lucky stars that he got to keep his flannel on. He wasn’t wearing nearly enough layers to be comfortable having to strip just yet — especially with his fluffy pink chest mark.

A few hands went by with Joaquin and Kevin both losing their socks and shirts to Betty or Veronica. Archie was down to his undershirt before the fifth hand started.

“Archie, if you just wanted to be naked, why bother wearing clothes at all?” Betty laughed.

“I figured that would be rude.” Archie shrugged and they all had a good laugh about it.

By the tenth round, Jughead was down to his jeans and white tank top, Betty was without her sweatshirt, socks and hair tie - leaving her in jeans and a black camisole. He was distracted by the freckles on her shoulder, finding it hard to concentrate on the game as it unfolded. 

By the last card of the next hand, things got interesting. 

“I see your tank top,” Joaquin said. “And I raise you your pants.”

Jughead swallowed hard. He surely hoped Betty had a good hand or that she’d fold so she wasn’t left in just her underwear and bra.  _ Not that I’d mind _ , he thought.  _ No. Stop it. She’s your student. _ His inner voices were exhausting.

He watched as Betty looked between the cards on display, Joaquin and her hand. He watched as her tongue glided over her teeth, just behind her barely parted lips. 

“Action to you, B,” Veronica said, sitting in her bra and pleated skirt.

“I call,” she said confidently. “Show me what you got, ‘quin.”

“Four of a kind. Sevens.”

He watched as Betty’s eyes widened in shock. It looked like she thought she was going to win the hand.

“C’mon, blondie. Whatcha got?” Joaquin said, leaning forward.

“Full house. Sevens over threes.”

Jughead can see Archie’s shock written all over his face. Veronica is trying to fight back a laugh, but is failing miserably and Jughead… Well, Jughead was trying to maintain a steady heart rhythm and think disgusting thoughts, trying to fight his erection at even the thought of Betty being mostly naked in front of him.

“Wow,” Kevin whispered.

“Off with it, Cooper,” Joaquin laughed, settling into Kevin’s side with a glint of delight in his eyes.

Betty stood up gracefully, grabbing her glass of wine and chugging it down. Her cheeks were flushed red to her ears, but instead of stripping down, she walked away, into the kitchen.

He could hear her muttering to herself and the sloshing sound of wine hitting the glass. When she came back, she was in her bra and underwear and he couldn’t help but run his eyes from her crown of her golden blonde tresses to her toes.

He froze when he got to her thigh. His eyes widened as they traced the fierce green Serpent on her leg. The one that matched the one of his shoulder. The one that….  _ Brandy _ . That meant…

Jughead shot up off the floor and rushed to the bathroom. Once he was securely behind the locked door, he ran the water as cold as it would go before splashing it against his face, trying to calm himself down. 

“What the fuck. What the actual fuck is going on here,” Jughead muttered to himself. He stood there, hands braced against the sink, head down as water droplets hit the ivory porcelain. A knock at the door pulled him from the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his . “I’m fine,” he said, even though he was decidedly  _ not _ fine.

“Open the door,” Joaquin said.

Jughead flung open the door, pulled his best friend into the bathroom by the collar of his shirt and slammed the door closed again.

“Did you know?!” Jughead asked frantically. “Did you know this whole fucking time? While you let me rant and rave for  _ weeks _ .”

“Yeah, I knew,” he said dejectedly. “I didn’t want to force it and then you told me about the girl at the bar so I had to see it for myself. I forgot she got that job. I’ve known since I started dating Kevin and I came home to her in tiny shorts sitting on the counter in the kitchen. I  _ wanted _ to tell you, but you’ve never believed in that soulmate shit.”

Joaquin was rambling, but Jughead could tell it was the truth. His best friend had no reason to lie to him. He supposed if he was in Joaquin’s shoes, he’d have done the same thing.

“It’s fine,” Jughead finally said. “But how the  _ fuck _ am I supposed to tell her that I’m her soulmate?”

“We finish playing the game?”

Jughead glared at his friend. Was it really that easy? If Betty found out that he was her soulmate, she’d also find out that he’s the Serpent King, and it was nice not having her know. It was nice just being Professor Jones, or just Jughead, to someone, as opposed to this caricature that the town built him up to be.

“Are you forgetting that she’s my student?” Jughead asked, raking his fingers through his hair, gripping the strands in his hands.

“So? She’s 21. And the semester is almost over, isn’t it?” Joaquin supplied, like it was the easiest solution in the world.

“Only a few more weeks…” Jughead trailed off. “But c’mon, man. It can’t be that simple.”

“Why can’t it be?”

“Because…” he was searching his brain for a valid excuse, but he couldn’t find one. “It just can’t be. Nothing is ever that simple for me.”

“You, Sir, need to relax,” Joaquin said, patting Jughead on the chest with a flat palm. “She’s your soulmate, everything will work out fine.”

Before Jughead could even think of a rebuttal, Joaquin had the door open and was pulling him back toward the living room.

“Apologies, my darling,” Joaquin said, plopping himself next to Kevin. “Ain’t no rest for the wicked.”

Jughead settled himself back on the couch, his head in his hands. He felt a nudge at his shoulder; it was cold and damp. When he looked up, Betty was offering him a bottle of water. He took it from her carefully, smiling his thanks.

“So, back to the game?” Archie asked cautiously. He seemed a little tense. He wasn’t sure what went down while he was in the bathroom, but he was sure it wasn’t anything good.

Betty crouched in front of him, her nearly bare chest now level with his face.

“Are you okay?” she asked. He could hear the genuine concern in her voice.

“No, yeah. I’m fine. I’m sorry. Just needed a minute.” He smiled, but he knew it wasn’t convincing. 

\--

Betty looked at him skeptically, eyes narrowed before returning to her chair. She was confused. Something spooked him; no one just abruptly got up like that. It was unsettling, like maybe she’d done something wrong, or made him uncomfortable. She took the throw blanket off the back of her chair and wrapped it around her shoulders, leaning on one hip and crossing her legs over, her soul mark on full display. 

She watched as Jughead swallowed thickly. He was nervous. She’d never seen him get nervous, never even seen him so much as stumble over his words in class. He was a Serpent, afterall, a fact she only guessed at based on Joaquin’s stories and the bit of black-inked snake skin she saw on his arm.

“I don’t think a few more rounds could hurt,” Joaquin said, eyes on Jughead. She saw him agree with a small nod from the corner of her eye.

“Actually, can I talk to you for a minute in the kitchen?” Betty asked Jughead, her hand placed gently on his forearm.

His head snapped up, their eyes locking. He didn’t say anything, just stood up and gestured for her to lead the way. She pulled the blanket firmly over her hips, tucking it around her body like she would a towel after the shower. She leaned herself against the countertop and waited for Jughead to catch up.

“Everything alright?” he asked, his smile fading.

“I could ask you the same question.”

“Technically, you already did,” he said in jest.

“Jughead, seriously. Is something wrong? If you’re not having a good time, you can leave. No one is keeping you here against your will. I promise I won’t be offended.”

Jughead placed a hand on her shoulder, effectively shutting her up as her skin erupted with goosebumps. She could feel her heart racing so fast she could swear he heard the thumping against her sternum.

“I’m having a great time.” He smiled, lopsided and boyish. Cute, some might even say. “There’s just a few things I’ve got on my mind. And I’m actually rather glad you asked me in here.” He glanced over his shoulder. She barely hear her friends in the next room and it was making her uneasy. “Is there anywhere a little more private we can go to talk?”

So he felt uneasy then, too. “Yeah, follow me.” She pushed off the counter and led him quietly up the stairs to her bedroom, closing the door behind them. She gripped at the blanket around her waist and rocked on her feet.

“Okay,” he exhaled. “I have some questions. Please don’t be offended, and feel free not to answer if you don’t want to, okay?” She nodded. “So, you’re over eighteen?” A nod. “Over 21?”

“I’ll be 22 in seven months.”

“And your soulmark?”

“What about it?” she asked as she sat on her bed and pulled open the blanket, revealing the snake again.

“Do you know who it matches with?”

“No. Obviously a Serpent, but the only Serpents I know are you and Joaquin, and I only just found out that you’re a Serpent, which is weird.”

“Why is that weird?”

“Because I was raised to believe that the Serpents were all terrible people who did nothing good for anyone, but I’ve since come to find out that that isn’t actually true,” she rambled.

“I’m not going to stand here and say that we’re all upstanding citizens, because that just isn’t true. There are a few of us that tried to turn the Serpents around, but the last leader did a bang up job corrupting the masses, which makes it a little hard to…”

Betty cocked her head to the side, her eyebrows knitted together. “Hard to what?” She can see him fidgeting in his place, standing uncomfortably. She patted the seat next to her in hopes it would relax him. After a moment of contemplation, he joined her on her bed. 

“It’s hard to lead a gang when your father corrupted them and they won’t even bother listening to your ideas to make everything more efficient and  _ legal _ .”

Betty closed the blanket around her legs and stood up, her eyes glazed in shock. She moved her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She felt like she wanted to scream or run, but she stood there, rooted in her spot, unable to stop staring at him.

“So you’re…”

“Serpent King,” he nodded. 

“Which means,” she said, dropping the blanket from around her, staring at her own soulmark and back to his arm, now fully on display in front of her. _They match._ _Holy shit, they match. What the actual fuck is going on here? Is this some kind of sick joke?!_

He stood and peeled off his tank top, revealing a burst of color on his own skin. Right there on his chest was a pink milkshake — her favorite thing, in the exact color with the exact number of cherries she liked and the exact amount of whipped cream she’d always get. She wanted to reach out and touch it, like maybe if she tried to it would smudge under her fingertips and prove this was all some kind of joke her housemates set up to prank her.

“I have had this for twelve years and I always thought it was some kind of fluke,” he said, fingers dragging along the edge of the mark. “There was never anyone I’d met who could possibly exude this much happiness and sweetness.”

Jughead continued on to tell her about how he’d seen her soulmark before, but he just didn’t recognize her for who she was at the time. 

“So that  _ was  _ you,” she said, still standing, too afraid to move. 

“Sorry if that makes me a creep, I swear I didn’t know it was you. It seemed to fit that this bartender could be my soulmate, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how you brought me that milkshake, about your essay, and now it all makes sense.” 

She explained that she took the job for his assignment, how she went undercover as a bartender to see just how much people would open up to a complete stranger if she was serving them alcohol. They talked a while more about how confused he was, and how incredible he thought she was…  _ Academically, of course _ . 

“And now that you know I’m your soulmate?” Betty asked, eyes fluttering, her heart racing and her fingers longing to reach out and touch him.

“I still think you’re incredible, and I don’t feel nearly as creepy saying it outloud.” He smirked.

“How are we supposed to go back to normal?”

“Who says we have to?”

“Couldn’t you lose your job if they found out you were dating a student? You’re a great teacher, and I wouldn’t want you to sacrifice that for me.”

“Right,” he sighed, almost in defeat. “But it’s only a few more weeks, and then you just can’t take anymore of my classes. Which is unfortunate for both of us.” 

He winked, and Betty’s blush raced up her cheeks to the tips of her ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How do we feel, my darlings? Let me know!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *aggressively sings Livin' on a Prayer by Bon Jovi* _OHHH. WE'RE HALF WAY THERE ___
> 
> __Welcome back to Chapter 5! I am so happy you guys have been enjoying this ride so far._ _
> 
> __This week was a rough one for me and seeing your comments, reaction tags, kudos, reblogs, and all the other wonderful things y'all have been doing have been absolutely astonishing and I cannot tell you what they mean to me._ _
> 
> __As always, I'm gonna shout my love for Lyss (bettscoppr/breathewords) from the top of a mountain. Without her, this would be a gigantic clusterfuck of unreadable proportions. I am one lucky lady to have her in my corner as a beta but more importantly a friend. Seriously, she's amazing._ _

The semester was winding down and every day in class with his soulmate was torture for Jughead. He had to be conscious of the fact that he couldn’t just talk to her as if she was Betty Cooper, his soulmate. In the classroom, she was Elizabeth Cooper, straight-A student. He knew there was more to her than strictly her academics, and he couldn’t wait to find out just how many layers she had. He also couldn’t wait to see what was underneath her modest sweaters and knee-high boots. Granted, he’d seen a lot of her, but there was still a lot left to the imagination. And his imagination was  _ very  _ active.

They were in the final stretch, one week left to go with finals on the horizon, when he was sitting in a small cafe a few blocks off campus with one of his colleagues, Dr. Ethel Muggs. They were going over plans for an upcoming co-taught class for the spring semester before she left for her winter holiday overseas.

“Thank you for agreeing to this course with me, Forsythe,” Dr. Muggs said. Jughead had to refrain from rolling his eyes at her overly formal tone.

“It seemed like a good opportunity. You’re an incredible professor. I figured I could learn just as much, if not more, from you as the students.” That was true. Ethel Muggs was one of the top professors in the entire University, and in the state. It was truly an honor to have the chance to teach alongside her. 

Her giggle was coy and it caught him off-guard. She reached across the table, her fingers grazing the skin of his forearm.  _ Is she flirting with me? _ he thought offhandedly.  _ Weird. _

He gave her a tight-lipped smile before returning back to the lesson plans they were creating. 

“Say, Forsythe,” Ethel said after combing through the pages of her notes. “What do you say we discuss all of this over dinner at my place?”

He looked up at her, eyes wide, his brain aflutter with confusion.  _ Absolutely not. _ They sat opposite each other, paper spread across the formica tabletop. 

“Oh, I don’t think so, Dr. Muggs.”

“Please, call me Ethel,” she said, touching his arm again, her thumb stroking short patterns on his skin.

“Okay,  _ Ethel _ . I don’t think so. That is to say, I am not interested—”

He had been so focused on their work that he hadn’t noticed the people filtering in and out. He certainly hadn’t noticed his soulmate walk into the cafe. That was until spatters of thick, pink milkshake decorated his paperwork and the back of his coworker’s neck.

“Oh my God, I am so incredibly sorry. I tripped. It was an accident,” the familiar voice rambled. He looked up to find Betty. There was something new on her face, a look he’d never seen before.

The woman got up from the booth and rushed to the bathroom.

“Betty? What the hell was that?” Jughead asked in a hushed scream.

“I… I don’t know,” she said, looking down at her now empty glass. “I’ve never…” she looked down and her eyes widened. “Jesus, I’m sorry, Jug — uh, Mr. Jones.”

“Calm down, it’s fine,” he said, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. “We can talk about this later. For now I think it’s better if you just head back to campus. Meet me for office hours before class starts.”

She nodded demurely and headed off without a new drink.

\--

When he finally arrived back at his office, Betty was waiting patiently outside his door. He unlocked the door and she followed him silently.

In the time it took Jughead to meet her, she’d done some research on sudden bursts of jealousy and rage in regard to soulmates. She found a litany of articles detailing how if a person meets their soulmate, but delays pursuing them, their brain goes nearly primal in it’s urges to protect what is theirs.  _ Fuck. _

She watched as he unpacked his bag and settled into his desk.

“Do you want to tell me what that was all about, or…” He trailed off.

“I didn’t know what came over me. Well, not until I did some research.”

“Of course you did,” he chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest. “And?”

“And it wasn’t exactly my fault,” she started, her mind racing insessiently, headlines flying across her memory as she tried to recall the best way to explain her actions. “It’s called Delayed Quantum Entanglement Aggression.”

“That isn’t real. That doesn’t even  _ sound  _ real. It just sounds like someone is getting a little impatient.”

“Apparently, it’s a thing,” Betty said, showing him the article on her phone. “Apparently it’s also called Mate Guarding colloquially.”

“Do you really trust a FizzFeed article for something like this? I thought you were better than that.”

“It cites  _ legitimate _ scientific research,” she said, scrolling to the bottom, showcasing articles from different psychiatric journals and the latest in soulmate science. “So it wasn’t my fault. Well, not entirely, anyway. But I’m still very sorry about how I acted.”

“Dr. Muggs is a  _ coworker _ . We are teaching a class together next semester. Granted, she  _ was  _ flirting with me.”

Betty felt the growl bubble in her chest — the overwhelming urge to defend and protect what was hers.

“Are you jealous?” Jughead asked, arms uncrossing and recrossing over his chest, staring at her incredulously. There was a smirk on his lips that she wanted to slap — or kiss — off of him.

“It’s not me, it's the Mate Guarding.” Betty insisted, almost whining. It was nearly a full blown tantrum. She had to resist the urge to stomp her foot for effect, but she knew that wouldn’t get her anywhere with the man in front of her.

She had never been a jealous person. Not when she and Polly were kids and her older sister got whatever it was they were fighting over. She’d never been that person, never wanted to be. Jealousy, to Betty, was a useless emotion.

“Right, yes. It is your very real medical condition. Don’t worry, I’ll pick you up in my DeLorean for work tomorrow, Doc Brown,” he teased. Her cheeks flamed. 

Him teasing her was something she was slowly getting used to. They’d spent more time together, be it at home or at the bar. They were getting to know each other, purely in a conversational way. There were innocent touches here and there, and when that happened, her skin was on fire, engulfed by the warmth of his fingers. It made her body ache, yearn to wrap around him and do things she’d hadn’t thought about doing with anyone in a very long time. 

It was getting increasingly more difficult to not throw herself into his lap and kiss him senseless. She was being driven crazy trying to stay away. At least now that she knew it wasn’t just her, that it was a biological reaction, she felt slightly better about her feelings and actions over the course of the last few weeks.

She’d found herself wanting to set every woman who even remotely looked his way on fire, including her classmates who she logically knew had zero interest in their professor. She had to bite down her feelings, but they were only getting increasingly more aggressive and hard to tame.

But now that she’d read up on DQEA, it all made sense. The articles she’d found detailed the symptoms and cause. 

_ Symptoms of DQEA may include: Increased heart rate around soulmate, intense and overwhelming jealousy and rage when soulmate is interacting with another person of their desired gender, headaches and a constant body ache when waiting for physical affection coupled with fatigue and clouded thoughts. _

She recalled feeling all of those things at one point or another in the past few months, but what really resonated with her was the yearning for physical affection. She lived for when he’d nonchalantly brush her arm or graze his fingertips against her in the privacy of her own home or playfully at the bar. 

_ Causes for DQEA: When someone meets their soulmate and each party is aware of their pairing, if there is a delay in interaction or lack of action, DQEA symptoms will begin. If DQEA goes unaddressed, it can lead to primal urges and violent, erratic behavior. _

Class went as smoothly as it possibly could have despite Betty’s inner turmoil. It was the last discussion before their final exam the following week, and she couldn’t wait for it to be over so she could finally pursue her soulmate and shake this damned Mate Guarding.

She had decided to keep her job at The Twisted Cherry, even after her assignment was completed and turned in. She liked bartending, enjoyed the interaction with different kinds of people than she was used to in Riverdale — people who didn’t see her as the youngest Cooper child, the orphan with a tragic past. At the Twisted Cherry, she was Brandy, bartender extraordinaire with an edge to her that could cut glass and sass that was unmatched by anyone. Anyone except Cherry, of course. 

It was her last shift before she decided to give herself a break from both work and school to really enjoy her first Christmas without her family. Of course, she knew that it was going to be difficult, but Betty had decided to keep some of the outdated traditions alive. Garlands and decorations would soon adorn the surfaces of her house on Elm Street. The smell of Christmas cookies and pastries would woft throughout for her housemates and their partners to enjoy. 

There was also the implication that she and Jughead would spend their first holiday together, and she wanted to make sure it was special for him. She wanted him to experience Christmas the way she always had — surrounded by people she cared about. 

That night, Brandy was perched at the end of the bar, drying her hands on a bar rag when a customer took a seat directly in front of her. She tucked a strand of the black nylon behind her ear, placed a coaster on the bar and smiled seductively.

“What can I get for you tonight?” she asked.

“I’ll take a Maker’s neat, two ice cubes,” he said, then paused before continuing. “And maybe your number?” he asked with a coy smile.

Betty fought the urge to roll her eyes at the cheesy pick up line. 

“Marker’s neat. Coming right up,” she said, turning to grab the square, waxed bottle from the rack behind her. She watched as the amber liquid splashed off of the ice cubes. She returned the bottle to the shelf and placed the glass on the coaster. “All set.”

“And what about your number?” he asked, staring between her and the glass.

_ I avoided that part of the question for a reason _ , she thought. She smiled sweetly instead. “Sorry, darlin’,” she said. “I’m spoken for.”

“That doesn’t mean much where I’m from. I’m Malachi,” he said, extending his hand across the bar top.

Betty shook his hand, not wanting to lose business for Cheryl or a tip for herself. Her eyes flitted to the side, looking toward where Jughead and Toni usually sat in the corner, and sure enough, spotted him watching her like a hawk.

“Brandy,” she said, withdrawing her hand from Malachi’s. “But where I’m from, being spoken for means everything. My apologies to your whomever you’re disrespecting by hitting on me.”

His eyes narrowed and followed her as she walked to the other side of the bar to serve another customer. She served another round to a few tables along the back wall and was on her way back to see if Malachi wanted another drink when he grabbed her arm unexpectedly. 

His thumb grazed up and down her wrist and she could see Jughead leap out of his booth and stalk toward them.

“C’mon now, sweet thing,” he said, his eyes looking her up and down after lingering on her soulmark. “I’m sure your snake of a soulmate won’t mind.”

She tried to push him away, but before she could, Malachi was greeted with a stiff hand on his shoulder. She could hear the deep growl in Jughead’s throat as he turned the man around.

“Oh, he minds,” Jughead said before unhanding him. She gave him a pleading look, one that she hoped would say,  _ please don’t punch this guy, I don’t want to lose my job _ . Jughead leaned in close to Malachi and whispered something she couldn’t hear into his ear.

Malachi’s eyes widened before he took another look at Betty, throwing a twenty dollar bill on the bar. He looked back to Jughead before practically running out the front door.

Betty crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at Jughead. 

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“You’re jealous,” she smirked.

“Not jealous. I can confidently say that I’m way better than that jackoff.”

Betty glared at him, eyes narrowed before it hit her. DQEA. She was hit with a fit of hysterics.

“For a medical condition you don’t think is real, you certainly are displaying all of the symptoms.”

“I am not,” he pouted. 

“If that’s what will help you sleep tonight, keep telling yourself that,” she laughed. “But you are cute when you pout.” 

She winked before heading back to her side of the bar. Jughead’s jaw dropped at her quip, but she just winked again and poured him another drink before sauntering away to tend to her other customers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. The slow burn is real. But I hope I'll be worth it. Tell me how you feel after this chapter. You know I love to hear it. As always, feel free to tumble with me @smugheadjonesthethird or on discord. My asks are always open for questions, comments, and concerns. Much love to you all.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good afternoon, beautiful people. Welcome back for Chapter 6! Reading your comments and thoughts has been so heartwarming. Thank you all from the bottom of my heart for all of the support this fic has gotten. I seriously cannot express to you what it means to me!

He stayed in the corner booth until Betty finished her shift. He told himself that it was because the guy that was hitting on her was giving him strange vibes, but the more he thought about it, the more it sounded like he’d come down with a case of the medical condition that he swore up and down didn’t exist. 

“Shut up, Toni,” he said as she laughed at him.

“Absolutely not. This is hilarious,” she said, clutching her sides as her body spasmed with hysterics.

“Did this happen with you and Cheryl?” he asked, and for the first time, he actually wanted the answer. He’d only ever asked rhetorical questions to Toni about her soulmate, never fully believing that the pull could be as strong as everyone who’d met theirs had claimed.

“No. But that’s because once we figured it out, there was nothing stopping us from acting on it. From what I’ve read,” she cleared her throat, “this only happens when romantic interaction is prolonged. Which is why it's happening to you. If the girl wasn’t your student, you wouldn’t be acting like a possessive fool any time any man so much as looks at her.”

He hated to admit it, but she was right. He’d noticed his increase in possessiveness over Betty, especially during her bar shifts. He’d sit in the corner and watch, just in case she ever needed assistance. She never did. Even tonight, he was sure she didn’t need him to step in, but when that curly-headed, sad excuse for a human put his hands on her, he couldn’t help himself. No one touched what was his. Even thinking about it made his chest tighten. Betty was  _ his _ soulmate. His and no one else’s.

He dropped his head in defeat and knocked back the remainder of his drink. He didn’t need to tell Toni she was right; the smug grin on her face told him she already knew.

_ One more week _ , he chanted to himself like a mantra.  _ One more week and— _ his train of thought was cut off when a different man approached Betty as she was counting her tips behind the bar. He was momentarily distracted by the pop of her hip as she bent salaciously over the ice chest. 

He slowly creeped up to the bar, just so he could hear this guy better. Betty looked up and smiled at the man, placing a coaster down in front of him.

“Hey, Bret. It’s a little late, I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I got held up at the office. You know how deadlines can be.”

“That I do. The usual?” she asked before turning to grab a bottle of Kettle One and pouring it into a pint glass filled with ice. She splashed seltzer over the top and set it down in front of him with a wink. “Working on anything good these days?”

“Just the usual fluff pieces,” he sighed. “I’m waiting for the opportunity for something bigger, but I just have to pay my dues first.”

“That’s the downside.” Betty frowned. 

_ What is she doing? Who the fuck is this guy? _

“I’m sure you’ll get your break soon,” Betty encouraged, touching the man’s hand lightly.

Jughead could feel the bubble of jealousy in his chest. He slowly slid a stool closer to the pair. It was hard, but he bit back the growl that was looming in his throat until he couldn’t anymore. He had listened to his soulmate flirt with this prep school wannabe long enough.

He cleared his throat.

“Another?” Betty asked without even looking at him.

“Please.” He tapped his fingers impatiently against the smooth, polished wood of the bar.

“So, Brandy. What time are you out of here tonight?” Bret asked. 

“The usual time,” she said and Jughead was thankful that she had been vague with her response. Was this guy really trying to pick her up?

“That isn’t incredibly specific, beautiful.”

Jughead watched as she traced her soulmark from memory. A smirk sprouted to her face.

“Let me stop you right there. I am not interested. I will never be interested. So save your breath.”

“You don’t have to play hard to get,” he said. “Everyone is interested.”

His voice was dripping with cockiness and it made Jughead want to wretch. 

“Let’s just say you’re not my type,” Betty smiled. “Now, unless you’d like another drink before last call, I suggested you settle up and get yourself home to the kids.”

Jughead bit at his lower lip, trying and failing to suppress a laugh. By God, even if she wasn’t his soulmate, he’d be enamored with her. He watched as Bret left a few bills in front of her, downed the rest of his drink and left.

She cleared his glass and tossed the ice in the sink. 

“Enjoying yourself over there?” she asked him as he kept snickering.

“That was something else,” he said, his laughter finally subsiding.

“Are you ready to finally admit you’ve got a pretty severe case of DQEA?”

“Nope. I won’t admit it. Because it’s not a real thing,” he insisted, knowing damn-well he was downright plagued with the ridiculous disorder.

“Sure thing, Mr. Jones,” she winked, turning away to finish up behind the bar before her shift was finally over.

He bit back a groan and his head dropped back in frustration.  _ This girl _ , he thought. 

He waited by his truck, on foot up against the passenger door, like some kind of James Dean impersonator. He was sure if he’d ever taken up smoking, he’d have smoked a pack waiting for her. His heart was racing, body thrumming with the need to reach out and touch Betty in hopes it would quell his racing mind. He started pacing around his truck, unable to keep still any longer. 

“Ready to take me home?”

Jughead looked up at Betty as she readjusted the bag on her shoulder. She was back to her usual self. Well, mostly. Her eyes were still rimmed in dark liner, lips still painted black, fake nose-ring still in place.

“Is that all I’m good for?” Jughead laughed, approaching Betty and taking the bag from her shoulder. 

“Pending further research, yes.” She laughed too, opening the door and settling herself in the passenger seat.

The ride home was quick. Quiet. A little too quiet. He could hear the squeak of the cracked leather under Betty as she shifted in her seat every few minutes. When he pulled up in front of her house, he put the truck in park and turned to her.

“Coming in?” she asked, and he was thankful that she had. Of course he wanted to come in. He wanted to spend all of his free time with this wonderful woman.

“You’re sure?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t.”’

He cut the ignition, shoved the keys in his pocket as he slammed the door shut and followed Betty up the stairs to the porch of her home. She unlocked the door and pressed her fingers to her lips, non-verbally requesting his silence. They toed off their shoes and slowly crept up to Betty’s bedroom, trying their hardest not to wake Veronica, Kevin or anyone else who was there that night. 

She clicked the door closed quietly behind them and sighed heavily. 

“You okay?” he asked, slowly approaching her, his hands finding her hips. His heart slowed in his chest. “I’m sorry if what I did today was—”

“No, Jug, you’re fine. It was a long shift. I’m just happy to be home and have tomorrow off.”

Betty’s placed her hands on top of his on her shoulders and smiled crookedly up at him.

They stayed there, basking in the silence of the night until Betty started giggling to herself. He cocked his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed.

“You were jealous,” she whispered.

“And so what if I was?” 

“You don’t need to be. Clearly, as you heard, I’m not interested in those guys. Or any other guy.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” he asked, leaning down and pressing his forehead to hers. His heart was in his throat. This was the closest they’d been, and he knew it was probably too close, but he couldn’t help himself. He needed it, this proximity to her. His body was aching for it.

She puffed a small burst of air across his cheek and smiled. “You know why.”

“Remind me,” he said, nuzzling his nose against hers.

She didn’t say anything, simply tapped the spot on his chest where his soulmark was, his skin burning under her touch. Her hand slipped to his neck and her thumb stroked his jaw lightly. She pulled him in closer, her arms around his shoulders, holding the back of his head, fingers grazing through his hair.

_ This might just be the best I’ve ever felt _ , he thought. Their chests were pressed together, and if he could focus long enough, it felt like their hearts were beating in sync. The steady thumping connected them closer, and he felt like he was going to spontaneously combust. He buried his nose in her hair, breathing her in, taking advantage of the closeness to hopefully quell his DQEA.

She took a deep breath and pushed away from him.

“One more week, Juggie,” she smiled, kissing his forehead gingerly. 

He deflated like a balloon, all of the air ripped from his cells and if he were a cartoon, he’d be a puddle of disappointment on the floor. But he knew it was for the better, even if it did mean he’d have to admit to having this ridiculous soulmate disorder.  _ Juggie.  _ His heart thrummed against this sternum.

“It might kill me,” he muttered to himself. 

\--

It was getting to be the most physically painful thing in the world for him to resist touching her. To have her there, within his grasp on that final day of class was the purest form of torture he’d ever known — and this coming from the guy who was beaten nearly to death for witholding information.

It was like he was more attuned to her. Even in a room full of chattering students — who were cramming at the last minute for the in-class writing assignment — all he could hear was Betty. Her hushed tone as she talked to herself, reminding herself of the things he was sure she already knew. The way she clicked her pen furiously, as she often did when she was thinking hard about something. The bounce of her heel against the tile floor. He heard it all as if she was standing right next to him, not seated in the back of the class, further away from him than usual. Honestly, he was grateful for the distance between them.

He tried hard not to linger on the opaque stockings on her calves and how they disappeared under her button-front skirt. Jughead bit his bottom lip, willing himself to think of anything else.

“Alright,” he said, slapping his thighs and standing up from behind his desk. “If you don’t know it by now, you never will.”

“Five more minutes,” a young man from the back of the class pleaded pathetically.

Betty snickered, her hand flying to her mouth to cover her amusement.

“‘fraid not, Mr. Blake. Notebooks away.”

The shuffling of papers filled the room, mingling with frustrated groans, but he could still hear Betty’s deep inhale and subsequent exhale. He wasn’t sure if it was relief or anticipation.

He poked his head to either side — making sure every stitch of study material was put away — before distributing the exams one student at a time.

“You have the full class to complete this exam. If I catch any of you cheating, it’ll be an automatic failure of the course.”

He handed Betty her paper last, tapping her desk twice before sitting back down. He heard whispered groans of  _ what the fuck? _ and  _ did we even learn this? _ but he watched as Betty wrote diligently in her curvy script that he’d come to know over the last sixteen weeks. 

He knew the exam wasn’t actually difficult, but if his students weren’t paying attention, they’d likely fail. The questions were subtle, carefully crafted to incorporate opinion with fact and history. He knew which student would pass, some only by the skin of their teeth, and the ones who would fail. It was evident in the assignment’s they’d turned in over the course of the semester. 

Slowly but surely, his students approached his desk, dropping their papers and smiling their goodbyes to him. There were only two students left by the time the scheduled class time was over: Mr. Blake and Betty.

“And that’s time, kids,” Jughead said.

“Five more minutes,” Mr. Blake said and this time, Jughead laughed.

“No, sir,” he said, standing from his position and walking back to collect his exam. 

Betty’s pen had been down for twenty minutes and he was unsure of why she was still sitting there to begin with. He certainly wasn’t complaining; having her alone in his classroom is a thought that ran through his head more times than he’d ever admit outloud. Jughead watched as his student left the room, grumbling something about switching majors before the door slammed shut.

“You alright up there?” he asked Betty, who still hadn’t moved from her poised position in her self-assigned seat. 

He slowly walked away from her, tapping the exam paper in his hands before leaning against his desk now facing her. Her eyes traced up his body and he could see a slight blush to her cheeks.

“Feeling okay?”

“Just fine,” she said as she stood and approached his desk, her voice somewhat breathy and unexpected. He reached forward for her exam and, as expected, it was thorough, neat and well organized.

“When will grades be posted?” she asked, nearly choking on her own saliva as her eyes bore holes into his.

“Exam grades are due by the end of next week.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

“When do you want them graded by?” he asked, his eyebrows raised and a smirk on his lips. He knew she wanted them done as soon as possible; so did he. Because as soon as the grades were submitted, she’d no longer be his student and they’d just be Jughead Jones and Betty Cooper, free to do whatever with whoever they pleased.

“Two weeks ago,” she deadpanned.

“Someone getting tired of her made up medical disorder?” he teased, chuckling to himself.

“I think you are, sure.”

His eyes narrowed as he watched her grin wide, showing her pearly white, perfectly straight teeth.

“I don’t—” he cut himself off, pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sighed. “Fine. I concede. DQEA is very much real, and it's  _ significantly  _ vexing.”

“Vexing? Who are you trying to impress, Mr. Jones?” she stood up and gathered her bag and jacket before leaning in closer. “We’re already soulmates, you don’t have to use your strong vocabulary to win me over,” she winked.

He watched her walk toward the door, an extra sway in her hip, her fingers sliding up her thigh and landing where he knew her soulmark was concealed beneath her skirt. She paused without turning and pulled her phone from her back pocket.

_ Betty: Let me know when those papers are graded. _

She threw another wink over her shoulder, and it took all of his strength not to chase her out that door, press her up against the wall and…  _ No _ , he thought.  _ Not yet. _

\--

Betty was startled awake. Her eyes shot open, still cloudy with sleep as she carefully crawled out of bed. The pounding at her front door sounded urgent, but if she had to guess, she’d bet that Kevin just forgot his key. Again. And was drunk. Again. 

She slowly made her way down the stairs, rubbing her bleary eyes, hoping her vision would clear soon. She didn’t even bother to peak out the side window. As she opened the door, her voice cracked.

“Kev, do I need to start leaving you a spare key somewhere? This is getting ridiculous.”

She’d been busy scanning the floor for her slippers, but when she didn’t get a response, she looked up and was suddenly wide awake. She wasn’t looking at Kevin Keller at all. Instead, she found Jughead Jones in front of her, out of breath, chest heaving, eyes sparkling in the moonlight. 

“Jug, what’re you doing here? It’s three in the morning.”

He still didn’t answer. He just stood there, eyes never leaving hers, his tongue peeking out to wet his bottom lip. She took a step closer to him, her hand gravitating toward his chest, to his soulmark. She could feel the growl in his chest reverberating through her skin.

He took a step forward, and she retreated into the house with him, her hand still pressed to his chest, in perfect step. He kicked the door behind them closed, his eyes still on her. It was like he wasn’t blinking and the closer she looked at his eyes, she realized that the icy blue that she had come to know was slowly being eclipsed by the harsh black of his pupils. 

His hand covered hers over his chest and she could feel the heat of him seeping into her, igniting her from the inside out; smouldering embers unleashed. Betty opened her mouth to speak, but before she could get a word out, his other hand was at her neck, pulling her closer into him. He pressed his forehead into hers and took a deep breath, but she could feel her own hitch in her throat. 

He stayed there, unmoving until he nudged her nose with his. She could feel the flutter of his eyelashes against her skin. She breathed him in deeply; her nose filled with sandalwood and leather.

Her mind was barely done processing his proximity before his lips met hers, tentative and gentle for the first time. His fingers twitched at her neck, kneading her flesh like he was trying to ground himself. It was quick, but he lingered there.

“Grades are in,” he smiled, his breath fanning across her face.

Betty pulled back from him, hand still at his chest. She was happy that he’d finally admitted that DQEA was a real thing, but she didn’t know he had it  _ that  _ badly. But the time for waiting was over — now there was nothing stopping them from living their lives together, as the universe intended.

Her fingers gripped at his shirt as she turned around and practically dragged him upstairs to her room. She fished a pair of Kevin’s old pajamas from her bottom drawer and placed them neatly on her vanity. Betty looked down at herself.  _ At least they’re cute, _ she thought as she closed the door behind them.

She nuzzled herself back into bed, pulling the sheets down to the other side and tapping the mattress. 

“You came all this way. It would be rude if I just kicked you out before you could get some sleep.”

Jughead carefully kicked off his shoes and shed his jacket, hanging it over the back of her chair. He took the pants Betty had left for him and closed himself in the bathroom. When he emerged, she could see the pink through his white undershirt and her heart raced at the thought of getting to see it for the rest of her life.

Jughead dropped his clothes by the vanity and stood there awkwardly, rubbing his eyes. 

“I won’t bite, Jug. At least not tonight.” She winked and he laughed.  _ Thank God he laughed. _

Truth be told, all she wanted was the tactile comfort that came with laying beside someone. The feel of his arms wrapped snugly around her as she laid on his chest. The skin-to-skin contact she’d been dreaming of for weeks.

She tapped the bed again. This time, he listened, settling himself right beside her. It didn’t take long for Betty to nuzzle into his side. As soon as she did, his arm draped around her shoulder and his fingers began tracing small patterns into her skin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come flail at/with me in the comments, on tumblr (@smugheadjonesthethird), or on Bughead Family Discord! If you aren't on the BFD, feel free to reach out to find out how you can come aboard! Until next time folx - stay safe and be good to each other <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome back! I am still in udder shock and amazement of all of the love and support I've gotten with this fic. Seriously, you guys have no idea what it means to me. This would be nothing with my all-star beta, Lyss. I owe her at least one hundred beers (or wine, or drink of choice) for everything she's done for me over the last few years. I am forever grateful.

He could feel his heart settling, like it hadn’t slowed in weeks. But lying beside Betty now, he felt an overwhelming surge of calm.  _ Maybe the DQEA was worse than I thought _ , he thought as his fingers dragged up and down her skin, just beneath the hem of her shirt. He felt her shiver, but he wasn’t sure if it was because of the December chill or because of his touch. 

He didn’t feel the need to push her to go any further tonight. It wasn’t the right time. There was still so much they had to learn about each other, but he knew he’d have the rest of his life for that. Regardless, it was too soon, too quick to jump her, to ravage her like he desperately wanted to, like he’d been dreaming of doing for weeks. He’d make it special for her. Do it right. After all, this was the rest of his life that he was talking about here. And hers, too. 

Her head nuzzled in closer to his chest, her hand over his soulmark. He wasn’t sure if it was intentional that her hand always ended up there, but it did, and he couldn’t be more proud to bear her mark — even if it was ridiculous.

Betty sat up abruptly and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, nibbling at her bottom lip as her eyes floated over him.

“What’s wrong? I can go if this is all too much,” Jughead said, pulling back the blankets, setting one foot on the ground.

“No, it’s not that,” Betty said quickly, jutting her arm out to stop him. “I just… can you take off your shirt? Not in a sexual way, I just…” she looked down, cheeks ablaze.

He reached up and cupped her cheek, his thumb grazing over her skin as a smile parted his lips. His heart was a flutter, his nerves firing on all cylinders. It was different with Betty — there was no pretense that he had to be anyone other than himself. The quiet, innocent intimacy of laying in bed, in her cozy bedroom, was almost more than he could handle.

Jughead reached behind him and pulled at the collar of his shirt, lifting it over his head and discarding it to the floor. He watched as Betty’s eyes went directly to his chest and a small smile bloomed across her face. They laid back down, her head on his chest, fingers tracing his soulmark lightly.

He could feel the heat from her fingertips branding his skin as she traced. It was strange to be so sure about something. He’d never been sure of anything in his life. 

Not until her.

His hands curled around her waist, his fingers indenting into the skin where her shirt had ridden up. Her head nuzzled deeper into his chest and he couldn’t help but smile. He dropped a kiss to the crown of her head, breathing her in in a way he’d never been able to before. She smelled sweet and floral, sure, but also like belonging and acceptance and, dare he think it, home.

After some time of laying with only the sound of the wind whistling through the trees, Betty leaned up on her elbow and placed a kiss directly onto the whipped cream of his soulmark. A bolt of electricity surged through him when her lips grazed his skin as she repeated the action over the entirety of the mark. 

He tipped her chin up and pressed their lips together. It was slow again, but this time less tentative. The gentle push-pull of their joined lips was natural; it felt like they’d been doing it for years. He situated himself over her, his hand at her cheek, thumb stroking gently as he poured the feelings he’d been hiding for the last few weeks into their kiss.

When he pulled back, he looked down at her, eyes half-lidded, and smiled. He ducked his head and placed a tender kiss directly over her heart before shimmying down her body and settled between her legs. He looked up at her from his new vantage point.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, knowing fully what his intentions were.

“Yes,” she said without hesitation. 

It was music to his ears. Her blind trust in him was reassuring and unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. His hands glided down her legs, feeling the smooth expanses of skin beneath his fingertips for the first time. He pushed up and settled himself next to her, nudging Betty onto her side, exposing her thigh and soulmark. He traced the familiar snake on her skin, tracing each scale and the crown atop its head. 

After admiring it for longer than he probably should have, he placed a chaste kiss to the crown on the serpent’s head. He could feel the goosebumps erupt from her skin against his lips as he continued to do as she did and kiss the entirety of her soulmark.

Jughead crawled back up the mattress, his fingers trailing behind him, drinking in her creamy white skin with the tips of his fingers before he secured his arm around her waist and nuzzled into her neck from behind.

He could feel Betty push herself back into him, her back to his chest and their hearts beating in time with each other. 

\--

When Betty awoke the next morning, she was secured against Jughead still. She had to admit, it was the best sleep she’d had in months. She tried to turn herself around to face him, but his arms tighten around her waist. She finally gave up trying to move when she felt his lips press against her bare shoulder. She hummed in delight, feeling the warmth of his entire body radiating into hers.

\--

It wasn’t long before they were spending nearly every night together. Jughead became a staple in Betty’s routine, adjusting to her new schedule until the Spring semester started. They spent the holidays together, snuggled under sherpa blankets in front of the fire, surrounded by their friends.

At the start of the new year, Betty was home with Kevin, Joaquin and Jughead, playing scrabble. Betty and Jughead had been attached at the hip, her constantly in his lap, constantly touching him, like she couldn’t get enough. Even playing scrabble, she sat securely between his legs, keeping her tiles hidden from him off to the side. 

She caught Kevin rolling his eyes at her, but she couldn’t be bothered to care.

“That is not a real word, Joaquin!” Betty said, pointing her finger at the board incredulously. 

“It is so!”

“Slang doesn’t count, DeSantos,” Jughead agreed, and Betty nuzzled into his neck, almost purring as she nipped at the exposed skin.

“Of course you’d take her side,” Kevin said, throwing his hands up in disgust. “We can’t win with either of you. Why did we even agree to this game?”

“Because it was Betty’s turn to pick for weekly game night,” Joaquin sighed. “Veronica had the right idea skipping out.”

Betty placed a few more chaste kisses to Jughead’s neck before turning her attention back to the others. “Oh yeah, why is that?”

“Playing word games with two academic-types is and will  _ always  _ be a terrible idea. I don’t even know why we pretended it was a good one. We need to take this game out of the rotation,” he grumbled. “And we’ve had to watch you two essentially dry hump each other all night. Would you guys fuck already?”

Betty looked at Jughead, eyebrow raised.  _ Challenge accepted _ .

“Well, if you insist,” Jughead said, pulling Betty into a better position on his lap, laving his tongue up her throat and taking her lips in a fervent kiss.

She wasted no time reciprocating. Of course she wanted to fuck her soulmate; it was just about all she could think about since the first night they shared together. But they had decided to wait, to not rush into the rest of their lives. Betty’s knees straddled Jughead’s hips as he braced himself against the foot of the couch, his fingers digging deeper into the flesh of her waist.

“Oh my God, guys! You could at least wait until we leave,” Kevin said, scampering up, offering a hand to Joaquin. “We’re leaving, be back tomorrow. Be safe!” Kevin called over his shoulder before walking out the door, locking it behind him.

Betty couldn’t help but smile as Jughead continued to ravish her. His lips trailed from hers to her neck and shoulders, his hands finding their way to the zipper of her sweatshirt and opening it in one swift motion. He pushed the plush material off of her shoulders, revealing a lacy bralette. He groaned as he stared at her chest, his own heaving.

It wasn’t that they hadn’t explored at all in the weeks since they united, but they certainly hadn’t consummated their relationship. They had been exploratory at best with wandering hands, but most of their pleasure came from watching the other get themselves off, learning as they watched how the other liked things so when the time came, they wouldn’t be a pair of fumbling idiots.

Jughead’s hands smoothed up her curves, fingers thrumming against her skin in time with their hearts. Betty moaned into his mouth as he opened wider to deepen their kiss. Her hips rolled down against his, feeling his half-hard cock behind his zipper. 

His hands pulled her closer, their chests pressed firmly together as his lips trailed to her jaw, nipping at the skin. Betty gasped for air, her fingers finding their way into his hair and tugging lightly, pulling a moan from his chest that reverberated through the skin of her neck, directly to her core. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” Betty said, trying to push back from Jughead’s grip.

He detached himself from her, nearly panting. When she looked down, his irises were eclipsed by his pupils, pure desire shining through his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Jughead said, breathing still heavy.

“No. God, no. Don’t apologize,” she said, her fingers playing with his hair. “I just don’t want the first time we sleep together to be on my living room floor,” she laughed. “Maybe the second time,” she joked, shrugging her shoulders.

Betty used the seat of the couch to hoist herself upright, standing in front of Jughead who looked up at her salaciously. She offered her hand down to him, but before he took it to lift himself up, he kissed it tenderly. Betty’s eyes fluttered closed.

Betty walked backward toward the stairs, waiting for Jughead to join her. When he finally made his way toward her and they locked eyes again, the look in his was predatory.

Their game of cat and mouse continued up the stairs until they were finally nestled into the privacy of her bedroom. She watched as he prowled toward her as she closed the door, pressing her back up against the cold wood, his hands bracketing her head. Betty bit down on the inside of her bottom lip. One of Jughead’s hands pulled at her chin, dislodging her lip from between her teeth and her breath hitched. She tried to swallow around the lump in her throat, but to no avail. He watched as his lips upturned into a devilish smirk.

“What?”

“When was the last time anyone told you how beautiful you are?” Jughead asked, his thumb stroking her cheek.

Betty leaned into his touch. She could feel the heat burning up her cheeks. She thought seriously about his question for a minute. It had certainly been a long time before she met Jughead that she’d been called beautiful. She was usually overlooked for her more attractive best friend, oftentimes being disregarded as plain. Sure, some people told her she was beautiful when she was behind the bar at the Twisted Cherry, but Betty certainly didn’t count it. After all, they were complimenting Brandy, not her. 

“I don’t know,” she sighed, nuzzling into his hand. “When was the last time you said it?”

In lieu of answering, he surged forward and took her lips in a bruising kiss. His fingers gripped at the back of her neck, pulling her closer as his hips ground against her. Betty moaned into Jughead’s open mouth, bracing herself with her arms around his neck. Her fingers entwined in his hair, tugging slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, come tumble with me @shrugheadjonesthethird - or join me on the bughead family discord. Be sure to check out everything going on @riverdale-events. Today is the first day of Color Me Riverdale! Check it out!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello beautifuls! Welcome back to another chapter. Your response so far has been absolutely amazing and I am eternally grateful to hear what you think.
> 
> As always, Lyss - you are a rockstar and I love you.  
> Sabrina - you beautiful bitch - thank you for all of your love and support while I was writing this and inspiring me when I was stuck. you are a literal angel and i love you, my soultwin.

Jughead woke up the next morning feeling at ease. He was arm under the weight of his soulmate's body, her plush floral bedding and the satisfaction of finally consummating their relationship. He hadn’t felt that relaxed in longer than he could remember, and he was in no rush to get out of bed and start his day; he had no desire to leave his soulmate’s side,not even for a cup of coffee. He looked down and chuckled at the sight of Betty draped over his chest, hair splayed around her head in every direction, looking completely sated. 

He tried to tame her unruly mane, tucking the blonde frizz over her shoulder as he smoothed his fingertips over her bare shoulder. Betty stirred slightly, nuzzling closer into his side. Jughead kissed the skin he could reach slowly and steadily, his lips leaving soft, punctuated kissed across her naked flesh. His fingertips wandered the expanse of her body, exploring now in the early morning light, seeing the evidence of the night before freckled into her skin.

He slowly nudged her off of his chest and onto her side, facing away from him, his hands following the curve of her waist and splaying across her stomach, his fingers kneading the flesh of her abdomen lightly. The small puff of air that left Betty’s lips almost sounded like a sigh, like what he was doing was affecting her dream state.

He rocked his hips softly into the cleft of her ass. Her hips rolled back to meet his on the second turn. His fingers continued to draw hapless patterns across her skin, over the purple bites from their coupling just a few hours before. He kissed her shoulder, making his way into the curve of her neck.

“I have to say,” Betty said, voice still cloaked in sleep. “This is the best wakeup call I’ve ever had.”

Her fingers found their way to his hair, keeping his mouth at her neck. He went from kisses to kitten licks and nips that had Betty gripping his hair and pressing her hip back into his.

“I’ll have to remember that,” he said, continuing his path of kisses.

Betty turned over to her other side, now facing Jughead with a wide smile on her lips. He blinked slowly, taking in all of her sleep-shrouded beauty before leaning in for a gentle kiss. One of Betty’s arms pulled him closer, their bare chests rising and falling together as they kissed languidly for what felt like hours. 

Her hand snaked down his body, his muscles contracting under her touch as they made their way to his erection. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he said as he nuzzled his nose against hers, eyes still closed.

Her ministrations did not stop, despite his suggestion. Betty’s hand felt like silk as she pumped his shaft teasingly slow. He sighed, feeling the light pressure of her grip as she continued working him up and down in her hand. Betty nudged his shoulder, urging him to lay on his back. She straddled his hips and Jughead stared up at his beautiful girlfriend — his  _ soulmate _ — and smiled. 

Betty slowly lowered herself onto him, inch by inch. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to fitting somewhere so perfectly, seeing Betty’s mouth fall open as he hit her in a spot she confessed she’d never been able to reach on her own. He was certain, in that moment, that he would always be amazed by her.

Betty’s hands lay flat against his chest as she slowly began rocking her hips, taking from him what she wanted. Her pace was slow, almost torturously so, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He rocked his hips to match her speed, not wanting to push their lazy morning romp into anything other than absolute perfection.

Betty’s hands left his chest for her own as she slowly groped and grabbed at her own nipples, sighing at the simultaneous pleasure. One of Jughead’s hands met the curve of her waist, digging his fingers into the bone to steady himself. The other found its way to her sensitive bundle of nerves and began slowly circling. 

The cacophony of whimpers and moans coming from above him was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. If he could, he’d capture it and have it play on loop for the rest of his life. He knew he was close, and if her breathing was any indication, Betty was, too. He circled a little faster, trying to get his love to where she needed to be.

She started panting his name as her hip rolls became less calculated. 

“That’s it, baby. Come for me,” Jughead breathed, and it wasn’t long before she did.

He continued his thrusts as long as he could to help her through her orgasm before his own came tumbling forward. Betty collapsed against his chest, her arms bracketing his shoulders. He flipped them carefully, and kissed her, pouring every ounce of energy he had left into it as his hand unconsciously traced her soulmark.

* * *

There was one aspect of their relationship that worried Betty more than anything. She knew Jughead was an extraordinary professor. She knew he was the Serpent King. But she’d never met any other of the Serpents — that she knew of — other than Joaquin. He’d kept her away from that part of his life so far. Anytime she offered to meet him at his bar, the Whyte Wyrm, instead of the Twisted Cherry, he declined. Whenever she recommended a night out on the Southside, he changed the subject and they went to Seaside instead.

Jughead was Betty’s soulmate. They’d know it now for months. They were uncovering more about each other everyday and he always seemed to keep Betty on her toes. But it had been bothering her. Even now as they sat, watching the newest documentary Flixnet had produced. She had zoned out more than half an hour before, being lulled and dazed by the lazy patterns Jughead was scrawling across her skin.

The nagging voice in the back of her head came to the forefront, as it often did in times of dissociation.  _ It’s probably because he can’t admit to his buddies that his girl is a Northsider.  _ She mentally flicked the thought away. That certainly couldn’t be it.  _ He’s just trying to keep you away from his other girlfriends. They’re probably more than you’ll ever be anyway. You aren’t from his world, Betty. You’ll never stack up to the Southside girls he’s played around with before you. _ No, absolutely not. Jughead was not that kind of guy.  _ He knows you’ll end up leaving him, just like his mother did, once you see how he grew up. _

Did he really think she was that shallow? Did he think that little of her that she’d just up and leave her  _ soulmate _ because he grew up less fortunate than she did? From what she was learning from Joaquin, Betty’s parents had lied to her for her entire life. The Southside was not “filled with miscreant scum” or “teaming with street urchins.” The Serpents were a family, tight knit and dedicated. Sure, Jughead said there were some rank and disciplinary issues, but that was true in any family, wasn’t it?

Abruptly, she turned to him, his hand falling from her shoulder and smacking the back of the couch behind them.

“Why won’t you take me to the Southside?”

Jughead picked up the remote and paused the screen, leaving a blur of what lurks beneath the cold, murky waters of the ocean, and cocked his head to the side.

“I… Wha—”   
  


“Every time I suggest we go there, you change the subject, or try to distract me,” she said, losing her train of thought as Jughead’s hand found her soulmark, dragging his fingertips around its edge. She stood up without warning. “Just like that. Why? Why can’t we go? Are you ashamed of me? Embarrassed I’m the reason you have that pink soulmark?”

Betty was pacing the living room and fully rambling, her arms gesticulating around her head wildly as she finally let her pent-up thoughts escape, passed her lips and into the ether. 

“What? No,” Jughead said, standing up to join her, his hands grasping her shoulders, just tight enough to make Betty stop flailing. “How could you ever think I’d be ashamed or embarrassed of you?”

Betty looked up at him through her lashes, the tears threatening to break through, but never cresting over her waterline.

“Elizabeth Cooper, you are the smartest, most determined woman I know.” His voice was soft, almost pleading with her to believe him. Of course, she did, but she couldn’t help but voice the self-doubt that had burrowed itself into her mind a few weeks prior. “You are everything I never knew I wanted or needed in my life.”

His thumbs were stroking at her collarbones, soothing her from a full-tilt spiral. She was so thankful that he’d learned how to read her, learned how to soothe her — mind, body, and soul. But the drops finally crashed against her cheeks, her mental instability finally besting her and taking over for rational thought.

“But—”

“Not to mention that you are the most  _ beautiful  _ person to walk this Earth, and I’m the lucky bastard that gets to kiss you whenever I want.”

Betty couldn’t suppress the smile that bloomed across her face. Even if she was being self-deprecating, he was handling it with such care that she couldn’t help but believe him. She heaved a heavy sigh.

“My first question still stands,” she pouted.

“Would it make you feel better if we went down there?”

“I don’t want you to be forced into taking me. I want you to  _ want _ to take me. I want to know every part of you, Jug, not just the good things or your later years. I want to know how you got to be who you are now. Even if you think it’ll scare me.”

“It’s just… It’s not that I don’t want to take you there. It isn’t always safe, despite my best efforts to keep everything on the up and up. There are still quite a few people who are more unsavory than even your worst customer at the Twisted Cherry. I just don’t want anything bad happening to you, sweetheart. That’s all. I promise.”

If it were anyone else, she’d chalk his entire safety speech up to a charming display of lip service. She’d heard Archie’s sad attempts to win Veronica over, which weren’t nearly as smooth or heartfelt as this one. She’d even heard Kevin and Joaquin having heart-to-heart conversations on occasion. But this was different. She could  _ feel  _ that he meant it. Maybe it was all in her head to begin with. Maybe it was the lurking remnants of grief after her family died while she was off gallivanting in Europe; she had often punished herself for leaving her family, never actually having said goodbye to them before the accident that shattered her life into millions of shards. 

She knew she’d never be truly whole again, not with that looming over her head, but Jughead made things better. He made  _ her _ better. Just as he’d told her in the past that she makes  _ him  _ better. A better leader, a better lover, a better man. All because of her. 

“Okay,” she whispered, wiping away the few salty drops that hadn’t dried to her cheeks. “Okay.”

“Now,” he said, reaching out his hand for her to lead her back to the couch. “Come back and watch this with me. You know ocean documentaries creep me out after I almost drowned in Sweetwater River when I was ten. I only agreed to put this on because you said you thought the  cuttlefish was adorable.”

He pouted his lip ever so slightly and Betty was smitten all over again, her negative thoughts dispelled and back into the recess of her mind where they belonged. She followed him dutifully to the couch and sat down, squishing herself under his arm, her head resting on his soulmark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jughead is smooth, isn't he? How do we feel? What do you think is going to happen in the last two chapters? I wanna hear from you. Come tumble with me @smugheadjonesthethird or ask me how to join the Bughead Family Discord. Love to you all. See you next week <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, yes. The penultimate chapter. Things get a little spicy this chapter _iykwim_

She arrived home later than usual from her shift at the Twisted Cherry. There was an incident with a patron, the cops were called; it was overall a horrible night for Betty Cooper. All she wanted to do was throw herself in bed and not wake up for at least eighteen hours.

She tossed her trusty blue backpack onto the corner chair and melted into her bed without so much as taking her shoes off first. When she turned herself over, there was a card left on her pillow.

_ Betty _

Curious, she slipped her finger under the seal of the envelope and popped it open.

_ Cheryl told me you’re working the early shift tomorrow. Meet me after at the Whyte Wyrm, 7:00pm. Wear what I left hanging in the closet for you. xox, Jug _

Betty got up off of her bed slowly, dragging herself to her closet. The hinged squeaked in protest as it opened revealing all of her clothes pushed to the side except one outfit in particular. It was one of her favorites - one of his too, if her memory was correct.

Her shift at the bar ended early the next day, and for that, she was thankful. Her sleep was fitful without Jughead by her side. She was excited to see him, see where he grew up, meet his people.

She sat in the back of the bar, morphing from Brandy back to Betty, slowly unpacking her bag to change into her designated outfit of the night. Betty slipped off the daisy-duke shorts, fishnet stockings and deep-v neck tank top, replacing it with the lilac circle skirt and black, long-sleeved crop top that was more modestly cut. 

She slipped on her black flats and stood up, checking herself in the mirror. She didn’t know why, but she loved this particular outfit. It was just revealing enough to catch the eye but still modest enough to leave enough to the imagination. Her soulmark peeked out from the bottom of her skirt, but mostly hid just above its hem. 

She started to grab for her make up wipes, but decided instead to keep her dark paint. It was partially laziness — the sheer amount of effort it would have taken to take the layers of black and purple off of her face mentally exhausted Betty — but mostly because she  _ liked _ how she looked with the makeup on. And she knew that Jughead had an affinity for it, as well. It would be a nice surprise. 

She fastened her pink trench coat around her waist, tightening the belt before bidding her coworkers a good shift and heading back to Riverdale.

She made it to the Southside without issue, navigating the unfamiliar streets until the green Neon peaked around the curve in the road. The parking lot was loose gravel, the crunch under her tires reverberating through her. She parked the car between two rows of motorcycles and headed inside.

It was stale and smokey in the bar, the lighting dim with fewer patrons than she expected.  _ It is early _ , she reasoned with herself. She looked around carefully for any sign of Jughead but came up empty on her third sweep of the floor. She slowly made her way to the bar, loosening her coat and draping it over her arm.

“Well, hello there,” the bartender said, flinging the rag over his shoulder. “Where have you been all my life?”

Betty rolled her eyes so hard, she thought they may pop out of their sockets. 

“Save it, Rico Suave. I’m not interested. I’m looking for someone.”

She heard the man behind the bar chuckle. “Everyone who walks into this place is looking for someone. I can be that someone.”

Betty openly scoffed, placing her coat down on the bar stool and sitting down, crossing her legs and revealing more of her thigh than she intended.

“I’m looking for the Serp—”

“I can be your Serpent, baby,” he said leaning forward, reaching out toward the hem of her skirt.

“No, thank you,” she said, pushing herself out of his reach. “I’m spoken for.”

Betty could see the twinkle in his eye. He was going to say something disrespectful and misogynistic. She’d learned that look in her early days of bartending. Her fists clenched at her side, the bartender’s antics getting the better of her.

She could feel Jughead’s presence before she could see him. It was calming, but this bartender was getting on her last nerve. It was a strange juxtaposition. She was tired after working a back-to-back closing and opening shift, but she’d waited so long for her soulmate to share this side of him with her that she wasn’t going to deny him, even if she was deadass tired.

She could feel his eyes on her and her fist flexed at her side in an attempt to hide her rage. He was stubborn and pompous and clearly didn’t know when to leave well-enough alone. Betty was pissed. It was clear on her face, she was sure. She’d always had a hard time curbing her facial expressions. 

Jughead burst through a door at the back of the bar with just enough time to stop Betty from punching Sweet Pea right in his face. He gripped his hand around her coiled fist and leaned in closely.

“He isn’t worth it. I promise,” he whispered, pecking her cheek lightly. “Enough of your bullshit, Sweet Pea. I don’t know what it is you said, but clearly she isn’t interested.”

“Well, this makes sense,” Sweet Pea said, throwing his hands in the air in defeat. “You did always have a thing for blondes.”

Jughead pulled the hem of Betty’s skirt up, just enough to reveal her soulmark and Sweet Pea’s jaw dropped.

“Like I said,” Betty started as she stood up to properly greet Jughead. “I’m spoken for.”

She was being smug and she knew it. She didn’t know what kind of reputation Jughead had before she came into his life, but from basic observation, he was definitely a well-versed lover. He was able to make her body sing in ways she never thought possible, though whether it was Jughead-specific or soulmate-specific, she wasn’t sure. She closed her eyes, savoring a memory from one of their first couplings.

_ His hands ran up the smooth expanse of her creamy white skin, drinking her in a way no one had ever deemed her worthy of. His fingertips left of trail of burning inferno as they traced her legs from knee to hip, slowly pushing her legs open, revealing her aching sex. _

_ It was torturous, the way he’d build her up, just to wait. The anticipation nearly killed her every time. She squirmed beneath his feather-light touch, rocking her hips in search of some kind of friction, his tongue, something. The puff of air from his answering laugh had her moaning in the most desperate way she ever had in her life. _

_ “Please, Jug…” she trailed off, not even able to finish her sentence before he dove into her heat. _

_ The long swipes of the flat of his tongue from entrance to her sensitive bundle of nerves had her reeling, but after the build up to that exact moment, it was to be expected. His tongue swirled around her clit, small nibbles thrown into the mix to keep her toes curling and her orgasm on the precipice.  _

_ His hand smoothed up her thigh, resting and kneading at her soulmark. As his other hand grazed the inside of her opposite thigh, her orgasm wracked through her, pulling every star from the sky and putting them behind her scrunched eyelids. Her mouth was open in a silent scream, her undoing so powerful that it left her unable to make a noise, despite its immense pleasure.  _

_ She had never known anything in her life to be so spellbinding and magical. It took more time than she anticipated to unscramble her brain and find words, but even when she did, they didn’t make much sense. _

_ “How even… What the—” _

_ “Wow,” Jughead said from his position propped next to her, stroking her hair. “That was…” _

_ “Intense,” they said in unison, eyes locked. _

She shook the memory from her head, but kept it close to draw from later, crossing her legs, seeking some kind of friction to appease the beast Jughead had unleashed within her. Betty had always been in the camp of people who believed that sex was okay, but would rather just do things herself. She knew what she liked, knew how to get herself where she needed to be… Until she met Jughead and everything she’d known got flip-turned upside down. 

She kissed Jughead soundly, more passionately than she normally would in public, but she had a point to prove.

\--

He ran his hands down her shoulders, taking her hand in his and twirling her around. The resulting giggle, he’d learned, was one of his favorite sounds. If he had to rank them, he’d definitely put her first-thing-in-the-morning sleepy voice in the top five. And the whimpers of pleasure he’s learned to pull from her.

“You look good enough to eat.” He winked, watching the red rush up her neck to her ears.

Betty playfully swatted at his chest and laughed as he led her to his favorite corner table. It was private, partially secluded, but still provided him a solid view of what was happening around him. He pulled out her chair for her, tucking her in neatly before situating himself next to her. She dropped her hand to his thigh in a move that was almost possessive.

He couldn’t fault her there. She was in a new place and didn’t know anyone but him. It was an atmosphere she most certainly was not used to. The Whyte Wyrm was not nearly as sophisticated as the Twisted Cherry. It was a grimey dive bar, originally built as a front to funnel the Serpents’ illegal dealings through. That was until Jughead had turned it into a legitimate bar, with legitimate profits. 

“You okay?” he asked her, resting his hand over hers.

“So this is your bar?”

Answering a question with a question was a dead give away that she was, in fact, not okay.

Jughead looked around and marveled at the work he’d put into the building. He’d made sure it was up to code, redecorated the intimidating dingey walls, taken out the stripper poles and added a fully functioning kitchen. Not only did it provide additional jobs for Southside residents, but it legitimized the whole operation. 

“Yeah,” he said, and he could hear the pride in his own voice.

“It’s nice.”

Betty was nervous, of that Jughead was positive. He didn’t think she needed to be, but he understood. Everything she’d ever heard growing up about his unbiological family was terribly negative and disheartening. He slipped his hand passed hers, rubbing soft, reassuring circles into the skin of her bare thigh.

Jughead could hear her humming in contentment, as she often did with the introduction of tactile comfort. He pulled her chair closer to his, wrapping his arm low around her back with his hand sneaking under the hem of her skirt.

Betty looked at him incredulously.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting you to relax. You’re so tense, sweetheart,” he said as his fingertips edged toward the seam of her panties.

“Jug, we’re in public,” she whispered while simultaneously opening her legs for him.

“You don’t seem to mind,” he chuckled, nuzzling his nose against her jaw. “I think it’s high time the entire world knows that you’re mine. So, I’m going to make you come right here at this table. Do you want that, beautiful?”

He was already brushing his fingertips against the apex of her thighs and he could feel that she was already wet for him.

“I think you do,” he said nipping at her jaw. He could feel the slight rock of her hips. “Tell me. Use your words.”

“Yes, please.” 

Her voice was breathy and wanton. He didn’t hesitate to push the fabric to the side and run his fingers through her slick.

The small hitch in her breath was enough to make his cock strain against the zipper of his slacks. Her small breathy moans as she tried to keep quiet spurred him on. It was an orchestra of whimpers and moans playing just for him and he never wanted it to end.

Just as his fingers slipped inside of her dripping cunt, the table in front of them teetered under the weight of Joaquin who stared at them intently. Jughead's hand froze and Betty sat up, pin straight, cheeks flushed.

"Boy am I happy to see you guys," he said sitting across from them, seeming not to notice Jughead's hand placement.

"Why's that?"

"I'm  _ panicking _ ," Joaquin said, slamming his hands against the table dramatically. 

Jughead used his friend's distraction to curl his fingers inside of Betty.

"Why?" She squeaked, shooting Jughead a sideways glance.

Jughead kept his eyes forward, slowly picking up his pace, his fingers tracing the inside of his soulmate's pussy. He watched as his friend pulled a small, black velvet box from his pocket and put it on the table.

Betty reached forward for the box and cracked it open revealing a delicate silver band. Her breath caught, but Jughead wasn’t sure if it was from him or the ring she was so intently focused on.

“Are you—”

“Going to ask Kevin to marry me? Yes. Which seems a little ridiculous seeing as we’re soulmates, but I want to.”

“‘Quin! That’s ah-mazing,” Betty choked out as Jughead’s fingers curled, hitting just the right spot. “He’s going to love this.”

With his free hand, Jughead took the ring from its snug spot in the box and held it up to eye level, he could see the delicate engraving. He traced the lines in the metal with his opposite hand, having Betty squirming against him. He could hear the huff of breath leave her nose as she pretended to be interested in the bottle and wolf fang engraving.

“I think he’s gonna like it,” Jughead said, putting the silver ring back in its box and sliding it back to his friend. “How are you going to do it?”

Jughead didn’t actually care how it was going to happen. He just wanted to see how long he could hold a conversation while knuckledeep in his girlfriend. 

Joaquin turned to Betty, a soft worried look upon his face. “You good over there, blondie?”

“Mhmm,” she all but moaned out as Jughead continued to pick up his pace. “Gr-great, even.”

Joaquin quirked an eyebrow up before turning back to focusing on the pair of them 

“Well, I was actually thinking about breaking into—” Joaquin stopped talking and his eyes widened. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Don’t look now, but Jezi is coming this way.”

Jughead abruptly stopped his ministrations between Betty’s legs, leaving her whimpering, her legs clenched together to keep him there. 

“Goddammit, Jug, I was about to…” Betty leaned in and whisper-screamed at his shoulder.

“This is not what I wanted for tonight,” Jughead muttered under his breath, freeing his hand from Betty’s clutches. When Joaquin was distracted, he popped his fingers in his mouth to lick them clean. “This isn’t over...not by a long shot,” he whispered to Betty, leaving a kiss at the shell of her ear.

He could feel Betty’s posture stiffen as Jezi approached the table. Her hips were swaying seductively, and the click-clack of her boots as she made her way across the bar right toward them had Jughead’s eyes rolling. Jezabel Langley had always had it out for Jughead. She had always tried her hardest to seduce and capture the Serpent King, quite literally to fuck her way to the top, as she was still only a very low-level member. She had even gone so far as to dye her hair blonde when she found out that’s what Jughead preferred. What she didn’t realize was that if the blonde hair was attached to someone as vile and promiscuous as her, he was never going to go for it. 

The girl bypassed Joaquin and sat directly in Jughead’s lap, her back to Betty, completely ignoring her.

“It’s been so long, baby. Where have you been?” her voice cooed.

He cleared his throat. “I’ve been around. What do you want, Jezi? I’m in the middle of something.”

“I’ve missed you, handsome. I was hoping to see you soon so I can show you just how much.”

Jughead groaned, turning to look at Betty in a way that he hoped conveyed that he has never once fucked around with his harlot. If Jezi wasn’t legacy, and he didn’t respect her father so much, her ass would have been tossed years ago for her wretched behavior and lack of obedience.

“Miss Langley,” he said using the best diplomatic professor voice he could muster in his discomfort, “if I haven’t touched you before, what makes you think that I will now, when I am clearly here with my girlfriend?”

“We both know you don’t keep girlfriends for long, sugar,” she said, sliding her hands up and perching them on Jughead’s shoulders. 

He could hear the possessive growl in Betty’s chest. After her confrontation with Sweet Pea, and being denied her orgasm, she was sure to be on edge. He smiled at her and gave her a reassuring wink for good measure. 

“What, her?” Jezi scoffed, turning her head and looking Betty up and down. “She wouldn’t even know what to do with a man, let alone one like you.”

“I’m not entirely sure what that means, but I can assure you, she does perfectly well. But thank you for the concern. Now, if you’ll excuse us…” Jughead trailed off, hoping Jezi would catch his drift. She did not.

“When you get tired of babysitting and you’re ready for a real woman, give me a call,” she said, tracing her fingers down beneath Jughead’s unbuttoned dress shirt to his chest. Her fingers burned as they dragged over his soulmark, reminding him of the time he’d accidentally electrocuted himself, resulting in tiny, slightly painful zaps across his skin.

His stomach wretched and he moved to stand abruptly, knocking Jezi off his lap and back onto her feet. He heard Betty’s chair nudge back against the grain of the wood. He watched as Betty put a saccharine-sweet smile on her face.

“Jezi, was it?” she said, taking a step forward. “You left a little something behind on Jug’s lap.”

Jughead cocked his head to the side, watching the two women. Jezabel looked at Jughead again, her eyes dragging up the length of his body and he officially wanted to crawl out of his skin. 

“Your dignity,” Betty said, cocking her arm back and punching the other girl square in her jaw, sending her stumbling a few feet back, clutching her face.

Jughead cinched his lips together, trying his hardest not to break out into full hysterics. He let out a snort of laughter before throwing his arm over Betty’s shoulder, his face cocky if not utterly congratulatory. He could hear Joaquin cackling from his place across the table.

“Thank God someone did it,” he said, laughter still edging his words. “We’ve all wanted to for years, but can’t.”

Jughead looked to Betty again, her eyebrow cocked up, manifesting as much  _ don’t fuck with me or my soulmate _ energy as she possibly could. 

Jezi looked around the bar, in search of some kind of backup, but anyone who had been watching was now staring at their glasses like they were the most interesting thing in the universe. Jughead could see the defeat on Jezi’s face as she looked back at the table. She collected herself and slipped back into her devil-may-care persona quickly.

“Don’t come crying to me when this doesn’t work out, Jonesy. They always come crawling back.”

“I can promise you that will not be happening. And saying crawling back implies I’ve been there previously, which we both know has never happened, despite what you want the rest of the Serpents to think,” he said, shrugging his shoulders and squeezing Betty tighter. 

The look of abject horror on Jezabel’s face was laughable. Jughead knew that no one had ever bothered to call her out because her father was FP’s second in command. But now that the regime had shifted, things were changing for the better, and that included taking people down a few pegs when necessary. 

“Have the night you deserve,” Betty chimed in, a smile plastered to her face as she waved patronizingly to the other woman.

Jughead watched as the offended girl huffed and turned on her heel, heading straight for the door to leave the bar. Once the coast was clear, Jughead turned to Betty and kissed her like his life depended on it. His hands were at her jaw, pouring all of his admiration into the kiss. 

“Where did you learn to punch like that?” he chuckled.

Betty looked at Joaquin and then back to Jughead. “He’s around a lot,” she said, jutting her thumb in Joaquin’s direction. “At least he’s been good for something.”

“And just when I thought I couldn’t love you more,” he said, smiling, pulling her in for another kiss.

Betty put her hands on his chest and pushed back, staring up at him, eyes wide.

“You what?”

_ Fuck fuck fuck _ , Jughead thought. He was sure his face was panicked. It wasn’t that he didn’t mean it, because he definitely did, but that was not how he wanted to tell her for the first time.

“Come with me,” he said, pulling her toward his office. 

He was dragging Betty behind him, barely looking back to see Joaquin’s reaction as he did. When they got to his office, he slammed Betty against the door, bolting it as he pressed his lips into hers in what he hoped was a big enough distraction.

Betty moaned into his mouth before pushing him away slightly. 

“Wait, wait,” she said, trying to catch her breath, as he scraped his teeth against the column of her throat. “Jughead, baby, stop.”

Jughead rested his forehead at her shoulder, trying to think of the best course of action to take from here. He knew, realistically, that now was not the opportune time for this conversation. He knew that she had been on edge — in more ways than one — since getting to the bar.

“I’m sorry,” Jughead said. “About Jezi and about how this night has gone. It isn’t exactly—”   
  


“I don’t care about that two-cent trollop,” Betty said, picking up Jughead’s head off of her shoulder to look him in the eyes.

Hers were the most brilliant shade of green, glossy and wide, filled with what he could only call admiration. He laughed under his breath.

“Did you mean it?” Betty asked. Her voice was hoarse, tentative as she tip-toed toward the question she really wanted to ask.

“That I’m sorry? Of course.”

“No,” she said, dropping her hands from his face and walking away further into his office and propping herself atop his desk. “What you said out there…”

Her voice trailed off, leaving the rest of her sentence unfinished, but hanging between them heavily. He’d known for a bit that he loved her. It wasn’t a question in his mind that he did. Sure, they were soulmates, bonded together for better or worse, but it certainly made it that much more special that he actually cared for the girl, actually loved her in a way he’d never loved anyone else in all of his years of existence.

Jughead took a deep breath and slowly approached his girlfriend.

“Elizabeth Cooper. You are so much more than I could have ever hoped for in my wildest dreams. You are brilliant and witty, compassionate and loving in a way I’ve never seen before.” He took her hands in his and squeezed her hands before lowering his head to nuzzle her nose. “Of course, I love you. How could I not?” he whispered.

Betty shook her head. “You’re just saying that because I’m your soulmate.”

“Even if you weren’t,” Jughead whispered. “I love you, Betty Cooper. And I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but I’ll be here for however long you’ll have me. And even if you decide you don’t, you are it for me. I have been waiting my entire life for you.”

“I…” Jughead could feel the warmth of her tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Hey, no. Don’t cry, sweetheart.” Jughead swiped at her tears, wiping them away delicately with his thumbs before pulling her in for a tight hug.

It sounded like she was attempting to speak, but he held her so tightly, her words muffled against his chest. He leaned back and looked into Betty’s eyes, urging her to repeat herself. She steadied herself with her palms against his shoulders, her eyes cast down and a deep pink blush creeping up her cheeks. 

“I’ve never loved anyone before, but I know that this is what it’s supposed to feel like. Jughead Jones, I love you.”

\--

“You do?” Jughead asked and Betty could hear the trepidation in his voice. 

She nodded her head with a smile on her face. “Yeah, I do.”

She watched as his eyes scanned her face, for what she wasn’t entirely sure, but they were smiling by the time they met hers again. He surged forward, capturing her lips again, knocking Betty backward and into the ledge of the desk. In one swift motion, he picked her up and propped her on the edge of it and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer into her as she deepened the kiss. 

Her tongue swiped at his lips, begging for entrance into the warmth of his mouth, then probed and explored every inch she could reach as he pulled her tighter. She had been waiting all night to finally come, and after the myriad of interruptions, there was nothing that was going to stop her, even if she had to do it herself.

Jughead’s hands trailed fire down her curves before flipping her skirt up and dropping to his knees with a thud. He spread her legs as Betty clawed at his shoulders, trying to get him back to her mouth, whimpering all the while.

“Just a quick taste, baby,” Jughead said before diving into her warm, waiting cunt, pushing her panties to the side to get a better angle.

She was about to open her mouth in protest, but instead, a strangled moan came tumbling off of her tongue. Betty gripped at the edge of the desk beneath her, trying to find something to ground her as Jughead lapped at her aching sex. She could feel the rumbling of her orgasm come thundering back into her loins, but just as she did, Jughead stopped.

Betty threw her head back and groaned at the lack of release and pulled Jughead up into a searing kiss, tasting herself on his lips. She wasted no time, quickly fumbling with the buckle of his belt and zipper of his slacks. They dropped to the ground and pooled at his feet; her fingers traced the waistband of his boxers before sliding them down his thighs and gripping his cock in her hands.

“If you don’t fuck me, Mr. Jones…” she started, positioning him in front of her entrance.

Before she could continue her sentence, he thrust his hips into hers. This is what she’d been waiting for, the sweet release from her soulmate. His fingers gripped at her soulmark as her fingernails scraped where she knew his was under his shirt. 

She hissed in pleasure as Jughead snapped his hips into hers relentlessly, bringing her orgasm crashing into her so quickly she barely had time to catch her breath before drowning in a tidal wave of pleasure. Her name fell from his lips like a prayer before Jughead claimed her lips, tumbling over the edge shortly after she did. 

They stayed there against the edge of the desk, panting, still attached at the hip when their eyes met again. 

“I love you,” she smiled.

“I love you most,” he said, kissing her forehead, then her lips tenderly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are y'all feeling about this wrapping up next week? What are some missing moments or continuations/codas you'd like to see? I wanna know what you're feeling. As always, thank you for all of the love. It makes my heart happy.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Here we are at the last chapter? Can you believe it, because I can't. You guys have been so amazing, I cannot thank you enough for all of the love you've give this fic. 
> 
> I wanna shout out Lyss and Bina for being amazing humans through this whole process. They've been incredibly supportive and my biggest cheerleaders.

It was only six months later that Joaquin and Kevin decided to tie the knot. Was it quick? Sure. But they were in love; they were soulmates. They didn’t want to wait anymore. Betty couldn’t blame them. She’d been thinking frequently about marriage and the future, especially now that she’d found and had begun to make a life with her own soulmate. 

When Kevin had asked Betty to be his Best Woman, she was more than honored, mostly because she thought Veronica was a shoo-in. She certainly wasn’t complaining, Kevin had been a dream throughout the whole process and having Jughead as Joaquin’s Best Man certainly made things a lot easier to plan.

It was going to be a small event, “family and inner circle only,” according to the grooms. Betty could count the guest list on three hands. Mr. Keller and Attorney McCoy, and Josie. Jughead, Betty, Veronica and Archie. FP, Jellybean, Sweet Pea and Fangs. That was it. No more, and hopefully no less.

Betty had thought ahead to pull in as many things that were important to the husbands-to-be as possible: Food catered by Pop’s to commemorate their first official date, a nerdy math pun on the wedding favors to honor how they met in algebra class and even their game night favorite, charades, as a fun activity at the rehearsal dinner.

Kevin had asked her to wear a simple black dress, which Veronica had helped her choose. It hugged her curves in all the right places, complete with a seductive slit up to her mid-thigh. Jughead certainly hadn’t minded, if the way he was practically drooling over her was anything to go by.

They made eye contact across the back of the room, set up on separate sides as they waited for the ceremony to begin. They’d be walking down together before Kevin and his father joined them at the altar. Just as the audio track began playing a string quartet version of Kevin’s favorite song, Jughead and Betty approached one another. He offered her his arm and she graciously took it.

“Don’t you just love weddings?” Betty sighed wistfully.

“They’re alright, I guess,” Jughead shrugged.

“Haven’t you ever thought about one of your own?” she asked, looking up at him and practically swooning.

Betty had always pictured what her wedding would look like, but now that she’d met Jughead, she’d been thinking about it more often. She pictured herself in a simple but elegant gown, her hair swept over her shoulder and a small bouquet of peonies clutched in her hand.

As they approached the end of the aisle, Jughead scoffed. “God, no.” Betty’s head shot to the right as her eyes widened. That was certainly enough of a response for her.

“Wait—” Jughead whisper-screamed, just as they split to either side of Joaquin and the officiant.

She glared at Jughead before turning her attention back up the aisle to watch her best friend make his grand entrance. She could hear Jughead from across the runner trying to get her attention, but she was having no part of it. Her eyes stayed trained dutifully on Kevin, even after Mr. Keller had shaken Joaquin’s hand, hugged his son and took his seat. She actively avoided Jughead’s gaze.

Somewhere before “Dearly beloved”, Betty got lost in her own thoughts.  _ Of course he doesn’t want to marry you, _ she thought.  _ What, just because you’re soulmates, you thought he’d want to marry you _ ? the voice in the back of her head laughed. It was mocking her. That nagging voice that gained ground every time she let her imagination into the pessimist playground of her mind.  _ He doesn’t love you enough to commit to being your husband. _

She snapped out of it in time to hand Kevin the rings, which she did with a tight smile on her lips. All she wanted to do was run. She wanted to leave this whole charade behind and drown out that voice. It had taken over her every thought on a day that should have otherwise been a joyous occasion. 

Her eyes pricked with tears as the officiant pronounced them husbands, and as soon as the exit music began playing, she could hear Jughead trying to get her attention again. Kevin and Joaquin walked out hand-in-hand, followed by a very distraught Betty and a very confused Jughead. 

She didn’t give him the chance to explain himself. She simply took off running as soon as she was out of the ceremony room. Instead of going to her seat in the hall, she left out of the front doors. She needed to get away before Jughead could catch up with her. She needed to get out. She needed to clear her head. She needed to get away from Jughead.

Betty was halfway across the parking lot before she heard him calling for her. The crunch of gravel approaching her made her turn around. She stood there, arms crossed, tears rimming her already glassy eyes. 

“Betty, wait!” he called as he skidded to a stop a few feet in front of her. 

“For what, Jug? What am I waiting for exactly?” Betty’s voice was watery, cracking with more emotion she’d ever heard in her own voice.

“Baby, please let me explain.”

“You made yourself pretty clear.”

“It came out wrong,” he tried to explain, but Betty shook her head adamantly.

“You don’t want to get married, I get it. Like I said, you made that abundantly clear,” she said just before her body let out a body-wracking sob.

She turned to walk away again, but a warm hand on her shoulder stopped her.

“Would you just listen to me?” Jughead pleaded. “I didn’t mean it like you think I did.”

She turned back around, her hair whipping over her shoulder. Betty shrugged Jughead’s hand off of her shoulder. He attempted to take her hand, but she pulled away, taking a few steps back and crossing her arms again.

“Then by all means, Jughead,” she said as the tears finally broke past her eyelids. “How could saying  _ God, no _ and scoffing mean anything other than you not believing in or wanting to get married?”

He took a step forward, but she took a step back, nearly tripping over her own feet. Jughead lurched forward to catch her before there was gravel embedded into her skin. When she was settled back on her feet, Jughead didn’t let go. She tried to shake him off again, but he wasn’t having it.

“Betty. Baby, listen to me please,” he pleaded again. She huffed, but didn’t budge. “When you asked if I ever pictured my own wedding… I know it sounded bad, but I promise you that’s not what I meant. If you asked me that a year ago, yes, I would have meant it. But since I met you…”

It was Betty’s turn to scoff. His hands found her neck, and he used the pads of his thumbs to tilt her face upward, forcing her to look him in the eye.

“Since I met you, it terrifies me how often I think about it. I didn’t exactly have a good example of love or marriage growing up. And I know that sounds like a bullshit excuse, but I promise you it's the truth.”

Betty looked up at him blinking silently.

“It scares me how much I love you,” he said, still looking down at her, not breaking eye contact.

Betty could see the glassiness in his eyes, like he wanted to cry himself. She’d never seen him look so sad before.

“Why?”

“That’s your take away from all this?”

“Why does it scare you? Nothing scares you. You’re the big, bad Serpent King, for fucks’ sake.”

“Jesus, Betty, you know I’m more than just that,” his voice was barely above a whisper as a few tears spilled over the ridge of his eye and down his cheeks.

“Why does it scare you?”

“Because you’re the first person to know every part of me. You’re the first person who’s ever  _ wanted _ to know every part. You didn’t run at any point when anyone else would have. Betty, I  _ love _ you, and not just because you’re my soulmate.”

Somewhere between his second round of falling tears and his heartfelt confession, Betty had forgiven him. She’d known she was probably overreacting - she had a tendency to do that lately - especially when it came to her future with her soulmate. Everything since she’d returned from Europe had been so uncertain until she met Jughead.

He was her steadying force - the thing that kept her most grounded. He was the best home she’d ever have, and she was terrified to lose it. To lose him.

“I’m such an idiot,” she said, wiping at his tears. “I’m sorry.”

\--

She had every right to be upset with him. If he was in her shoes, he probably would have been just as distraught. Looking back at it, there were plenty of other things he could have said other than  _ God, no. _ For that, he knew he was an idiot, and for that, he knew he’d be apologizing for a very long time. Betty, on the other hand, certainly had no reason to be sorry.

“Look at me,” he said, tipping her chin up. “You are not an idiot. Furthest thing from it. And you have nothing to be sorry for. If you haven’t realized by now, I apparently love the taste of my own foot.”

He smirked, hoping the joke would ease some of the residual tension. It looked like she was fighting it, but the corners of her mouth turned up in a hesitant smile. 

“You’re an idiot,” she sighed. 

He knew she didn’t mean that he was subpar intellectually. In her own way, it was a term of endearment. It was one of the many ways — when she said it like that — that she told him she loved him. 

“Let’s go back inside. We’re going to miss the fun,” he said offering his arm to Betty. 

She took it graciously and laid her head on his shoulder as they walked back into the venue. 

\--

The following weekend, Betty donned her favorite pair of overalls, tied her hair back in french braids and helped Kevin pack the rest of his room into boxes.

“Are you sure you have to move out?” Betty asked, almost whining.

“Betty, darling. I love you. You know that. But I’m married now, and I’m pretty sure you don’t want me and Joaquin cramping your style.”

“There is no style to be cramped, Kev. I’m just…” She sighed. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Kevin put down the box of high school memorabilia and grabbed Betty by the shoulders. 

“I’m moving a few blocks away. It’s not like we’re leaving town!”

“I know, but the house is going to be so quiet.”

“You’ve still got Veronica. Jug is here all the time anyway. And let’s be honest, you’re hardly ever home with your busy schedule. You’ll be just fine. Change never hurt anyone.”

“Well, that isn’t true,” Betty started, but it was better to not get into the semantics of it all right now. 

“You know what I mean,” Kevin said, his eyebrow raised.

“But I don’t still have Veronica,” Betty sighed, sitting on the edge of Kevin’s bed. “She told me at the wedding that she’s moving in with Archie at the end of the month. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for her, but this house is very big for just me.”

“So get new roommates,” Kevin said as if it were the most obvious answer in the world.

“That won’t be happening. No one will ever be able to replace you and Veronica.”

“Well, obviously. We’re your best friends and a warm body to fill a room isn’t the same thing.”

Later that day, after the last of Kevin’s boxes were loaded into the bed of Joaquin’s pick up truck, after hugs and tears and more hugs, Betty and Jughead settled on the living room couch, ruminating in silence.

“I know this was the last thing you wanted to do today. You just got back from that trip to Toledo. I’m sure you didn’t even unpack yet. You didn’t have to help Kevin, y’know.”

“I didn’t do it for Kevin. I know how hard this is for you,” he said, pulling her into his lap.

“It’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. It’ll just take some getting used to,” she said, nuzzling into his neck. “You don’t have to stay, though. You can go home and get yourself settled.”

“I was thinking,” he said wistfully. “What if I unpacked here?”

“Then all of your stuff would be here. You’d have to go back and forth from here to the Southside. That doesn’t seem like it would be very time efficient.”

Jughead laughed, a full belly laugh. “Betty, think it back.”

He watched her as the gears turned.

“Wait, you want to…”

“There is it.” He smiled. “What do you say? What if we lived together? It doesn’t have to be here. But here is definitely an upgrade from my tiny apartment.”

“You want to move in here?” Betty asked, still gobsmacked.

“I wanna be wherever it is that you are. Whether it's here or in two years if it's in Chicago.”

Betty was still absolutely floored. She’d thought about asking Jughead to move in; he was there practically everyday anyway. More than half of her closest was occupied by his flannels, though that may have just been from her stealing them. She wasn’t sure how that would have gone. She didn’t want to push it after their fight at their best friends’ wedding. 

“You’re sure? I know this is all new to you. I mean it's new to me, too. But I know that it’s something you never really pictured for yourself.”

“In the past, I didn’t. But since you waltzed into my life, I have been picturing white picket fences and flower gardens. I know I don’t always say the right thing, and that probably won’t stop, but I have never been more sure of anything.”

.

.

.

_ fin _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. That's all she wrote, folx. Let me know what missing moments, future fic, or codas you wanna see in this universe. I definitely have plans to write them, but I wanna know what you wanna see! 
> 
> Thank you for all of the love. Until next time, find me on tumblr @smugheadjonesthethird, or on discord. (if you wanna join, let me know, and I'll get you more information. 
> 
> Remember to follow @riverdale-events for upcoming events for some amazing content.
> 
> Love you all.


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